


Corporate Policy

by eideann



Category: Jonny Quest, The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest
Genre: Abduction, Captivity, Child Abuse, Gen, Intimidation, Threats of Violence, Violence in Excess of Canon-Typical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 87,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eideann/pseuds/eideann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessie & Race have gone to visit Estella, Hadji is off at summer camp, so the two Quest men have decided to have a movie night.  Unfortunately, someone else has been waiting for just this opportunity . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Movie Night

**Author's Note:**

> Notes from December, 2003:  
> DISCLAIMER: Jonny Quest is a trademarked property belonging to Hanna Barbera. I do not own or claim rights to any of the characters that are part of that property.
> 
> For those of you who have read my story Mistaken Identity, I want to let you know in advance, this is not taking place in the same universe. Many of my basic assumptions about the Quests and their lives are similar, but there will be no crossover in this story.
> 
> For those of you who just like Jonny Quest, let me give you a bit of info. In my stories, you may assume that all of the classic series occurred and that most of The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest will also take place. I do, however, disregarde the alien episodes and the entire existence of Alice Starseer.
> 
> Just a few basic hints: from info in both series, I have deduced that Jonny is two years younger than Hadji, so since Jonny is twelve in this tale, Hadji is fourteen. I've seen no hard data concerning Jessie's age, but I've taken my cue from a number of other fic writers in placing her almost exactly between the boys in age. I think of Benton as looking like he did in the original series rather than the tall-ish stout, brown-haired fellow who started out The Real Adventures, so we're looking at a short, slender redhead.

Benton poured the popcorn out of the popper into a large bowl and laced it generously with butter and salt. Putting it on the tray with the licorice whips and a bag of M&Ms, he carried it into the living room. He'd wait to get the mugs for the root beer out of the freezer until Jonny came down. It had been a long, hard semester at school for Jonny, and they were celebrating his stellar report card with a private movie festival.

Hadji had taken his finals early this year, and then gone to a summer institute for Indian culture. It was more of a summer camp for second and third generation Indian kids, but Hadji found it refreshing to spend time with people who had similar experiences to his. Race and Jessie had taken off from the airstrip around noon so that Jessie could visit her mother at her current dig site. As a result, he and Jonny had the house to themselves, which was a rare enough occurrence that it, too, merited a celebration. Well, they had it to themselves except for Bandit. The little mutt pranced around his feet, obviously hoping for his share of the treat.

He set the tray down on the coffee table, tossed a few kernels of popcorn to Bandit and flopped down on the couch, stretching wearily. It hadn't been the easiest spring for him, either. He'd finally finished his analysis of current trends in illicit weapons and turned it over to I-1. Phil Corvin had tried to give him another assignment immediately, but he'd begged off. He needed a break. Resting his head on the back of the couch, he closed his eyes and contemplated a month off.

With an an odd buzzing sound, the lights went out. Benton sat up and looked around in surprise. A power outage? How odd. . . Then he noticed that the screen of the television was glowing slightly, and there was a faint light emanating from the kitchen door. He stood up and went to look. The flourescent tubes in the light fixtures were also glowing. An EM pulse? He could smell a faint odor of burning plastic and there was smoke wisping out of the electrical outlets.

"IRIS?" he said hopefully, but as he expected he received no response. If the pulse had been powerful enough to melt the wiring in the walls, the security systems wouldn't come back online. They'd installed defenses against low level EMPs, but not against anything this strong.

The sound of shattering glass filled the living room, causing Benton to leap forward through the kitchen toward the back door. There was a handgun in a drawer by the door.

The door opened as he approached, and a black-clad figure walked in, holding a semi-automatic machine gun leveled in his direction. Benton stopped. The man had white hair with twin black streaks at his temples and piercing blue eyes. "Good afternoon, Dr. Quest," he said in a resonant baritone. Bandit skittered through the kitchen and out the door. Benton was glad to see that the man paid the dog no attention.

Footsteps behind him told him that there would be no retreat in that direction. "Good afternoon," Benton said calmly. "I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced."

"All in good time, Dr. Quest, all in good time." His eyes flicked to the men behind Benton. "Tie his hands, boys."

Benton submitted to the indignity without changing expression, devoutly hoping that Jonny would get away.

* * *

Jonny was just pulling his shirt over his head when the lights went out. After Jessie and Race had left, he'd gone swimming, reveling in the freedom from Jessie's caustic comments. He was really looking forward to having his father and Race to himself again for a while. It wasn't that he didn't love Hadji, or even like Jessie when she wasn't being a brat, but he sometimes missed the way things used to be. He went over to turn off his cd player, but stopped when he saw that it was smoking slightly. This wasn't an ordinary power outage. He had to find his dad.

He was halfway to the stairs when he heard the windows in the living room breaking. He stopped, and moved more quietly to the stairs to peer down. When he got a look, he flung himself backwards. There were men and women in black uniforms climbing the steps, carrying automatic weapons. He turned and ran back into his room, threw the window open and started scrambling down the drainpipe that was attached to the wall next to it.

Looking down between his legs, however, he saw the side door of the house open and reversed his direction. _Alright, going up,_ he thought. If he could make the roof before anyone saw him, maybe they wouldn't think to look for him there. He risked a glance down and saw that no one was looking up. _This could work. This could really work,_ he thought.

The window next to him opened suddenly, startling him. His grip on the drainpipe slipped, and he slid a few feet down the wall, causing his heart to race. After a second, he started upwards again. As he came alongside his bedroom window, a man reached out and tried to grab him. He kicked out at the man's arm, but the force with which he struck the man's shoulder jarred Jonny's grip loose from the drainpipe and he fell.

The boxwood hedge broke his fall, but he felt a ripping pain in his left leg. A blond woman came over to his side and reached down to take his arm. "Hey, kid, it didn't have to be this hard," she said as she started to drag him to his feet. "Shit!" she exclaimed. "He's bleeding."

Jonny looked down at his leg and saw that his jeans were ripped open and there was a huge gash in his leg that bled freely. He gulped and clenched his teeth against the pain. One of the bigger guys lifted him off the ground and carried him toward the back door into the kitchen. He heard angry voices behind him.

"Who knocked the kid off the wall?" That was the woman who'd tried to pull him to his feet.

"He knocked himself off the wall! He kicked Stevens and -" Jonny noticed a blackness around the edges of his vision that abruptly swooped in and took his awareness away.

* * *

Benton fumed. Here he was, sitting in his own living room, hands tied behind his back, while the young people who were holding him prisoner ate his popcorn and popped M&Ms. He suspected that the white-haired man was waiting for others of his minions to find Jonny. His son was very resourceful, but there were limits to what a twelve-year-old could do against a crowd of machine gun toting twerps.

There was a sudden commotion in the kitchen, and he noticed that the people around him were looking nervously at the door. He stood up and walked purposefully toward the kitchen, preparing to shoulder the swinging door open. A young man with close-cropped brown hair stood and blocked his path. "I'm sorry, sir. You are supposed to stay in here."

"Well, then, young man," Benton said in a reasonable tone, "why don't you find out what's going on in there?" The boy knit his eyebrows, but he gestured for Benton to seat himself again. When he did so, the boy nodded at one of the others, then turned away and walked into the kitchen.

While the door was open, he heard the older man's voice raised in fury. ". . .let the boy get hurt!" Benton surged to his feet as the door swung shut. Two of the other young people leapt up and seized him by the arms.

"Let me go!" he exclaimed, struggling.

"Please, sir," said the girl who held his right arm. "We have our instructions."

He brought his foot down sharply on her instep and threw his shoulder into the boy's midsection, then launched himself toward the kitchen door. All six of them converged on him, but he kept struggling. A moment later, the door slammed open and the leader stepped through.

"What the devil is going on in here?" he barked in irate tones.

"What happened to my son?" Benton demanded, leaning toward him against the restraining hands.

"Damn!" The white-haired man shook his head. "Bring him in here."

All but two of them released him, and they proceeded into the kitchen. Jonny lay unconscious on the table with the left leg of his jeans cut completely away. Blood from an enormous gash on the outside of his thigh pooled on the wood of the table. Benton wrenched away from the hands that restrained him and ran to his son's side, frustrated by the bonds on his wrists that kept him from touching the boy.

"What happened?" he asked, glaring at them all.

"I'm told he tired to climb to the roof," the leader said. "Somehow he lost his grip and fell into the boxwood hedge."

Jonny's face was pale, and, even unconscious, there was a crease of pain between his eyebrows. A dark-haired woman knelt beside the table, carefully stitching the wound closed.

He raised a brow angrily. "Somehow?" Benton asked, a dangerous tone in his voice. "Would you care to explain that?"

"I haven't gotten a clear accounting yet," the man said, grimacing. "I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen."

"I'm very glad to hear it," Benton said, his eyes narrowing. "Would you please untie me?"

The man shook his head. "Once we're on the plane, Dr. Quest." Benton raised an eyebrow, and the man shrugged, having the grace to look embarrassed. "You must understand, I don't want to take any chance that you will act the fool. We're all much safer if you remain bound."

"Jonny isn't, evidently," Benton spat. The man flinched.

"That was not my intention, Dr. Quest. The one who caused this will be punished, I assure you."

"I'm sure Jonny will find that very comforting."

Jonny stirred, moaning softly. "Dad?" he said in a weak voice.

Dropping his anger for the moment, Benton bent over his son. "I'm here, Jonny."

"Are we captured?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Nuts." Jonny opened his eyes and looked down at his leg. "It's the beginning of summer!" he groaned. "Wait!" He tried to sit up, but one of the guards held him down. Benton glared at the man, but he was powerless to stop him. "Where's Bandit?" Jonny demanded. "What have you done with my dog?"

"Your dog is fine, boy," the man said. "No one intends to harm your dog." Benton glowered at the leader, reflecting that, according to him, no one had intended to hurt Jonny either.

"You'd better not!" Jonny declared, glaring at him.

"You see, your son will be fine," the leader of the invaders said. "He's got spirit." Benton threw him a venomous glance, and Jonny looked back and forth between them, clearly aware of the undertones. For once, he remained silent.

The medic tied off the last stitch and stood up. "Pardon me, Dr. Quest, but is Jonathon allergic to any analgesics or antibiotics?"

"No, he's not," Benton replied, surprised by the question.

"Good." She pulled a syringe out of her medical kit. "Has he ever had morphine?"

"Yes."

"Good." She bent to inject him, but Jonny sidled away, up against his father.

"Hey! Dad?"

"Let me see that," Benton asked firmly. The woman paused and looked toward her boss, who shrugged.

"It's just morphine, sir," she said, holding out the syringe so she could see the label. He looked down at Jonny, whose teeth were gritted with pain. He didn't have much choice. He nodded, and the woman injected the drug into Jonny's arm. When she was done, Jonny pulled himself into a sitting position and put his arms around his father's waist, leaning against him. Benton glared at the white-haired man.

"Now what?"

"We wait."

The medic disappeared for a few moments and came back with a blanket which she wrapped around Jonny. Benton wondered what they were waiting for.

A red-headed girl came into the kitchen from outside, her rifle slung over her shoulder, carrying Bandit in her arms. The dog was limp, but conscious, and she was stroking his head with one finger. "Here's the dog, sir," she said to the leader.

"Bandit!" Jonny exclaimed, trying to pull free. Benton held on to him firmly. "What did you do to him?"

"He's just sleepy," the girl explained, smiling at Jonny. "I gave him the same tranquilizer I give my dog when we fly. He'll be fine." She looked at Jonny's leg, her lips pursed sympathetically. "Is it alright if I let him hold the dog?" she asked.

"Not now," the medic said. "Let's wait until he's properly dressed again." The girl nodded and took Bandit out again.

Benton was beginning to wonder where all these polite and photogenic young people were coming from as a young man ran into the house and said, "The boat is ready, sir."

"Good," the leader said, nodding sharply. "Stiles, you take young Mr. Quest."

A very large man bent and reached out for Jonny. His son cringed against his chest, and Benton glared at the leader. "You could let me carry him. That would immobilize me quite effectively."

"Oh, come on, Dr. Quest," said the large fellow, smiling encouragingly. "I wouldn't hurt him. He's my little brother's age." He beamed down at Jonny. "I'll bet you like Pokemon."

Jonny gave his father a desperate look, drawing even closer. "Dad?"

"Please?" Benton asked, letting a pleading note enter his voice. "Can I carry him? You have enough people to surround us easily."

"Very well, Dr. Quest," the man said, favoring him with a stern look. "But don't do anything your son will regret."

As they untied his wrists, Benton considered running for the door and going for help, but he couldn't leave Jonny in this condition. Instead, he bent and gently gathered him up in his arms. He was quite an armful, these days. Surrounded by the crowd of young men and women, he followed the white-haired man down to the beach where a boat waited. He walked up the ramp and took one look behind him at the house, wondering how Race was going to react when he returned tomorrow.

The boat's engine was, of course, diesel, which was why it still worked even after the EM pulse. Benton was led by a smiling young woman, carrying a rifle, to a small cabin with a bed, a chair and a table. On the floor was their dog carrier in which Bandit lay, snoring peacefully. Benton reflected ironically that this was probably the first time the device had been used. He lay Jonny down on the bed as gently as he could while the young woman demonstrated the facilities for him. Before she left, she told him that a snack would be brought in for them once they were underway.

"Oh," she said just before she left. "Neither of you is subject to seasickness, are you?"

"No," Benton replied. She smiled, then closed the door and locked it. Who are these people?

"Dad?" Jonny said after a few moments. "Do you know where we're going?"

"No, I don't."

"I'm sorry I got caught," he said.

"It's okay, Jonny. They caught me first, after all." When the soft sound of snores was the boy's only response, Benton sighed and sat down on the chair. Race wouldn't likely even know they were missing until he got back. Lord only knew where they'd be by then.


	2. Blood and Bandages

Race sat at the table in the restaurant Estella had taken them to. Chinese food, in Buenos Aires. He shook his head. Both of the girls had gone to the ladies room, leaving him alone at the table. Picking up a sliver of pork with his chopsticks, he wondered how Jonny and Dr. Quest were enjoying their movie night.

Race smiled to himself. It had been the only thing Jonny could talk about for two days, and Race thought it was a great idea. Benton and Jonny needed more quality time alone together. With the life they all led, that was a rare and precious commodity.

* * *

Shortly after the boat got underway, the medic came in with a basin of water and medical supplies to see to the smaller cuts and abrasions Jonny had suffered when he fell into the bush.

"If you just leave the supplies, I can take care of that," Benton said. She looked up, perplexed. "I'd rather do it myself, thank you. I doubt he'd appreciate you seeing him unclothed."

She left briefly, and he could hear a low-voiced conference in the hall. The white-haired man came in and said, "Very well, you can see to his injuries yourself."

"Thank you," Benton said with a hint of irony in his tone. The man nodded brusquely and left them alone.

Once it was clear that they weren't going to be interrupted, Benton started mopping up the blood from the scratches. He removed Jonny's jeans and his t-shirt, both of which were damaged beyond hope of repair, and scanned his body for more serious injuries that might have been hidden by his clothing. Finally, he daubed the antibiotic ointment on the various wounds and applied adhesive bandages to the larger ones.

Sitting back, he reflected that it wasn't a good sign that Jonny hadn't awakened during his handling of him. He reached out and touched his son's forehead. There didn't appear to be a fever. It must be the morphine putting him out. He looked around for something suitable to cover Jonny up with, but all he had was the blanket they'd brought from the house. Gently, he wrapped his son in it, both to keep him warm and to shield him from view. He wasn't putting him back in those ripped up clothes if he could help it. Surely their captors would provide something else.

Turning away from his son, he looked at all the cloths and swabs he'd used to clean Jonny up, and he realized that he had the perfect medium to leave evidence of their stay on this little boat, should the vessel fall into friendly hands. Picking up one of the more liberally smeared tissues, he leaned over Jonny and, a short way above the bed, drew first a J and then a B in blood. Nervous now, lest someone come in before he was done, he hastily picked up another tissue and wiped the blood away, leaving no visible trace.

Unraveling the cut edges of Jonny's jeans, he secreted some of the bloody fragments underneath the mattress and up on the underside of the chair. Then he gathered up the fabric and debris and put them by the door where they could be easily picked up when someone returned, avoiding close scrutiny of the area around the bed.

He had just settled back in the chair when the door opened again. The medic came in, bearing a plastic bag of carrot sticks and two of the small containers of fruit juice that come with the straw attached to the back. She glanced at Jonny, who slept peacefully in his blanket cocoon, then gathered up the supplies and the debris.

No more than a couple of hours after that, the boat chugged to a halt. Jonny was still sleeping. Benton had woken him up long enough to let him drink some juice and eat some carrot sticks, but the morphine was clearly knocking him out. Benton waited nervously for someone to come. What did these people want? He'd never been a prisoner this long without somebody explaining why. Usually the villains couldn't resist jumping straight into the exposition.

A quarter of an hour passed before the door opened. The medic came in again and squatted down by the bed. Benton watched as she examined his son, unwrapping him from the blanket to check the wound for seepage, placing a hand held electric thermometer in his ear to check for fever. "Well?" he asked.

"He seems just fine. A very healthy little boy," she said as she placed the blanket back around him. She smiled down at Jonny and gave his hair a tousle, then she stood. Benton took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, clenching his fists. These people were bizarre. "Someone will be in to fetch the two of you shortly."

"Thank you," Benton said in a very flat voice. She smiled and left. Benton immediately re-wrapped Jonny's blanket more snugly.

A few moments later, the leader came in. "I presume you'd still prefer to carry your boy, Dr. Quest?" he asked. Benton nodded. "We will be transferring to the plane now." Someone came in and took Bandit's carrier. Benton picked his son up and followed them, looking around to see where they were.

It was difficult to say for certain. There was no land in sight in any direction, nor any boats or buoys. Just a plane on pontoons. The guns were less in evidence now. He supposed that they reasoned that he wouldn't try to escape under these circumstances, when there was no place for him to go. Unfortunately, they were right. Benton glanced up at the brilliantly blue sky and wished it were night, so he could have the slightest notion of where they were. Admittedly, there was a finite distance that they could have covered in the hours since he and Jonny had been brought aboard, but he'd like more specific information, and he doubted he could get that from their captors.

They took him across to the plane and into another small room. This one contained two beds, one of which folded into a table. No one remained behind this time to explain the facilities, so Benton put Jonny down, covered him up carefully with another blanket and explored them himself. There was a small lavatory with a tap for water, and under the permanent bed there was a small refrigerator in which there were a variety of sandwiches and fruit drinks. There were no windows. He had just sat down on the bed opposite Jonny's when the door opened. He got to his feet quickly, but it was just the same young blond woman from the boat, carrying Bandit's carrier in one hand and a small valise in the other. A small, somewhat familiar-looking valise.

"We thought you might like a change of clothes," she said, putting both objects down. "Is there anything else you need, Dr. Quest?"

"I don't think so."

"The flight will take several hours. We will be landing after dark."

"Thank you for the information."

She pointed to a small, glowing button. "If you press that, someone will come by to assist you." With that, she closed the door and locked it again. Benton got up and let Bandit out of the carrier, placing the still-somnolent dog on the foot of Jonny's bed. Then he opened the valise, and stared in surprise. If he was not mistaken, he was looking at the reason for the delay in their departure. These were his own clothes, and Jonny's, and this was definitely an overnight case from their storage room. Benton sat down, feeling somewhat stunned as he considered the implications of this? How long did these people intend on keeping them? How long did they think they could succeed in keeping them? He had no idea, as of yet, just who his real captors ultimately were. This plane, the large number of people, the whole set up suggested a large-scale operation, but it didn't have the feel of any of his usual antagonists.

They had sent in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for Jonny. Benton managed to put them on him without really waking him, then covered him up again.

When he heard the aircraft's engine start, he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Race would be at the Maine house in the early morning. He'd see the blood and all the other evidence, and he would come after them. He would find them, and they would return home. He snorted. To a ruined house with no power and no water.

There was reading material in small compartment in the wall. He pulled out a copy of _Anne of Green Gables_ , that being the least saccharine of the options, and began to read.

He'd finished that book and was contemplating whether he wanted to read _Pollyanna_ or just sit quietly when he heard the plane's engine change. They banked, and he felt the beginning of the descent. Bandit was beginning to stir, and Benton thought it wise to put him back in the carrier. Lord only knew what he might do in these circumstances. Jonny was still out, though he suspected the morphine would wear off soon. He went and sat beside him, leaning across his body to hold him steady if the landing was rough.

He needn't have worried. They landed smoothly and taxied to a halt. A few moments later, the door opened again, and he stood to greet the medic. She was followed into the room by two of the gun-toting goons.

"As I'm sure you have guessed, Dr. Quest, we have arrived." He gazed at her unblinking, waiting for her to say something else. She dropped her eyes. "I'm afraid that you will have to be sedated to enter the facility."

"What?" Benton rose, glaring. "I don't think so."

"It is necessary," she said. "I assure you, we will not harm you or the boy in any way."

He glanced at the fellows behind her, who were holding their rifles ready, though not leveled. "I suppose I have no choice."

"Please lie down on the bed, sir." He gave Jonny a last look then went and lay down. She swabbed his arm with alcohol, then injected the drug into him. "Count backwards from one hundred, please," she said. He just gave her a disgusted look and closed his eyes.

* * *

Race circled the airfield once, wondering why no one was responding to his radio calls, not even IRIS. The lights on the landing strip were out, and none of the computerized landing programs that coordinated with IRIS were getting any information. This did not look good.

He landed the plane without any difficulty, but no one came out to greet him. Not even Bandit. He jumped down from the cockpit and ran up to the house, pulling his gun out of its holster as he went. All the windows into the living room were shattered. He ran up to one of them and looked in. There was a half-full bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, and M&Ms scattered across the surface. He stepped in through the window and looked around. Apart from M&Ms thrown about the room, there were no signs of a struggle. He went on into the kitchen and froze, staring at the table. A pool of blood had dried on the top and dripped off the edge, creating a brown stain on the floor.

"IRIS?" he said, waiting for the computerized system to respond. The silence was eerie. He walked swiftly to the terminal by the door and saw that none of the lights were on. The security system was offline. He made a quick survey of the house and found signs of hasty packing in Benton and Jonny's rooms. With a sinking heart, he pulled out his cell phone and put a call through to Phil Corvin's emergency line.

"Yes?" said the voice of Nadine, Corvin's assistant.

"Bannon here, I need Corvin now."

"I'm sorry, he's meeting with the -"

"Code 91," he said.

"Just a moment." Less than thirty seconds passed before Corvin himself was on the line.

"Race, what's happened?"

"Have you heard from Dr. Quest?"

"No. Should I have?"

"Fur on a catfish," he muttered.

"Race?" Corvin asked in a warning voice.

"They're not here, Phil. Someone's broken into the house, the security is offline, their clothes and other personal items are gone, and there's blood in the kitchen. I haven't had time to look over the grounds yet, but it doesn't look promising." He paused. "Get an evidence team up here now."

"Already moving," Phil said. "Anything else?"

"You know what I know. I'm going to keep looking around and see what I can find."

"Keep me posted. Did you say IRIS is offline?"

"Everything's down. I had to land by sight and instruments."

"Shit." There was a click as Phil hung up the phone.

He was still in Jonny's room, looking around at the mess that had been left behind. He walked over to the window, which was wide open, and looked out. One of the bushes looked a little odd. Running down the stairs two at a time, he went outside and took a look. It appeared that someone had landed in it, and there was a trail of blood leading from it to the kitchen door.

As he walked across the grounds to go check the lighthouse, he dialed the number of Hadji's camp. A cheerful voice answered the phone and he asked for Hadji. After a brief argument, the cheerful voice left and was replaced by Hadji, sounding worried.

"Yes, Race? Is anything wrong?"

He heaved a sigh of relief when he heard the boy's voice. Then he took a deep breath and said, "It appears that Dr. Quest and Jonny have been kidnapped."

"What? When?"

"At a rough guess, last night. So if anyone who isn't me comes to get you, don't go with them."

"What if it's Dr. Quest?"

"Especially if it's Dr. Quest. I'm serious, Hadji. If it's not me, you stay at camp. Do you hear me? I don't care if it's the president himself."

"Yes, Race. I will do as you say. Are you coming to get me?"

"Not right now. I think you're safest there, where you're surrounded by people."

"But I wish to help."

"I know. Right now the best way you can help is by staying right where you are, doing what you're told and not getting caught." There was a frustrated silence on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, Hadji, but I don't know how you could help when I don't have the first idea where to look."

"But, Race -"

"I'm sorry. Can you put the director on the line?"

The director sounded very alarmed when he explained the situation to her, but she agreed to keep Hadji there and not allow him to be taken away by anyone but Race himself. He disconnected, knowing that Hadji had to be distressed, but he didn't want to have to worry about him just this minute. Sighing, he dialed Estella's satellite phone and gave her the rundown on the situation. When he suggested sending guards out to keep any eye on them, she pointed out that the wilds of Argentina weren't a likely place for kidnappers to find success. He agreed, and disconnected, thankful for once at not having to talk to Jessie. Her reaction would have been much the same as Hadji's, only less polite.

He spent some time looking over the grounds, but he didn't see any evidence of how they were taken away. It was unbearably frustrating not to be able to do anything right away. Turning, he gazed at the house from a distance. He was at an angle that blocked the expanse of broken glass, so it looked as peaceful as it always did. Race knew he'd better stay away. He'd already touched too many things in the house while searching for Dr. Quest and Jonny, and he shouldn't muddle things for the forensics team any further.

"Damn, do I feel useless!" he growled.

After nearly an hour of fruitless wandering, the sound of an approaching helicopter caught his attention, and he looked upward, shielding his eyes against the sun. His cell phone rang. "Bannon," he said, answering it.

"Please don't shoot us when we land, sir," said the voice on the phone.

"I won't. Not if you're going to do something useful." As the chopper set down, he suddenly found himself wondering again where the dog was.


	3. Impasse

Benton awoke to the sound of Bandit barking and growling. He sat up, wincing at the headache the anesthetic had left behind it. "Dad, are you okay?" Jonny asked. His son was sitting up on the bed next to him.

"I'm fine. How long have you been awake?"

"I don't know," Jonny said, shrugging. "It's hard to keep track of time. That lady, the one with the needles, came in a while ago and looked at you and gave me another shot." Bandit stopped growling when he heard their voices and came trotting over to the bed, tail wagging.

"More morphine?" he asked, a little concerned.

"I don't know. But I don't think so. I feel less light-headed than I did."

Benton was seriously displeased. They were giving his son medications without consulting him? Not that he could stop them, he thought, his gut clenching. He looked at his watch. It was ten in the morning. By now, Race had to have returned to Maine. He pressed the button on the side that should have activated the homing beacon, but nothing happened. No doubt the EM pulse had destroyed the circuitry.

"What do they want, Dad?" Jonny asked.

"I don't know." He looked down at his son. "Are you all right, Jonny?"

"I guess," he said.

Benton scooted back against the wall next to Jonny and put an arm around his shoulders. "By now, Race knows we're gone and he'll have started looking."

"Unless they blew up the house," Jonny said. "Or they might have taken him prisoner, too! And Hadji! Maybe even Jessie and Estella!"

Benton tried not to show the horror these suggestions engendered. "I don't think so, Jonny. They probably would have told us by now."

"These people are really whacked out, Dad," Jonny said earnestly. "I may have been pretty dopey with the morphine, but I could tell that much."

"Whacked out?" Benton repeated, lifting an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"You're really out of it, you know that, Dad? I mean, try for the 90s."

"Jonny, it's the new millenium."

"Yeah, I know. You're that far behind."

Benton smiled at that sally. "Well, then, educate me, son. What does it mean?"

"They're lunatics," Jonny said.

"Ah, that," Benton said, nodding. "Yes, I had noticed."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"We'll see about that when we know what they want."

The door opened, admitting a tall, bull-like man of middle years. His hair was dark and cut in a conservative style He was followed by two of the ubiquitous gun-toting young people and a blond woman in a medical assistant's uniform. Bandit barked twice and then hid under the bed.

Jonny stiffened and Benton gripped his shoulder a little more tightly.

"Good morning, Dr. Quest. I am Theodore Crandall. We have some issues to discuss, so I thought Patricia could take Jonathon to see Dr. Pascale."

At this suggestion, Jonny leaned closer against him. "I'd just as soon be present when Jonny sees your doctor, Mr. Crandall," Benton said.

Crandall nodded, his brow wrinkling. "Yes, I understand, Dr. Quest. But, as it happens, that wasn't a request."

Benton raised his eyebrows. "No?"

Crandall walked up to the foot of the bed, looming over them. Benton could feel Jonny shrinking down. "Please don't make me give Jonathon another injury for Dr. Pascale to treat, Dr. Quest."

Jonny sat up straighter all of a sudden. "We're not afraid of you!" he declared.

Benton saw the angry light flash in Crandall's eyes. Clenching his teeth, he turned to Jonny. "I guess you'd better go, son."

"But, Dad -" Benton gave his son a look that silenced his protest. Reluctantly, hissing in pain, Jonny got to his feet.

"How far will he have to walk?" Benton asked.

Patricia put a supportive arm around Jonny's shoulders which he shrugged off immediately. Sighing, she said, "Not far. There's a wheelchair just outside."

"I'll see you later, Dad," Jonny said as he left.

"See you later," Benton replied. Jonny was limping painfully, still disdaining Patricia's offer of support. Benton ground his teeth as his son passed out of his sight. Race had better get here quickly. He just hoped that he'd know where Jonny was when Race showed up.

He slid off the bed and stood up, not wanting to be at a disadvantage. One of the guards followed Jonny and the medical assistant out, but the other stayed in the room, standing behind Crandall.

"Please come into the next room, Dr. Quest, where we can sit down and talk like civilized men." Crandall gestured toward a door Benton hadn't yet noticed, on the wall that the bed was up against. It was Hobson's choice. He walked around the bed and went through the door. The next room was furnished as a comfortable sitting room. There was a cream brocade sofa and a pair of matching wingback chairs gathered in a conversation group around a coffee table. A bar fridge stood against one wall with an attractive flower arrangement on top.

Crandall followed him in and shut the door behind them. He could hear Bandit scratching at the door and wondered why they'd brought the little dog with them. It could well be that they'd use threats to Bandit to keep Jonny in line. Benton hoped not. Jonny was devoted to that dog, and if anything happened to him. . .Benton didn't want to think about it.

He realized that he was woolgathering when Crandall cleared his throat and said, "Please, Dr. Quest, be seated."

Benton crossed his arms and glared at the man. "This all very nice and civilized, Mr. Crandall, but would you mind telling me just why I'm here?"

"That is what I came to discuss." Crandall smiled, an expression that Benton noted did not touch his cold gray eyes. "Please sit down."

The tone in the man's voice suggested that this, too, was not really a request. Benton sat stiffly in one of the armchairs. Crandall sat in the other chair and leaned against the back. "Allow me to give you a little background on this organization, Dr. Quest." Benton let out a sigh. Here it came. "We are a provider of goods and services to interested parties."

"Which am I?" Benton asked. "A good or a service?"

Crandall gave him a condescending smile. "We do not traffic in people, Dr. Quest. You are research and development." Benton blinked in perplexity. What did he mean? "We do not usually operate in this manner; these are extraordinary circumstances."

"If you're telling me that you don't usually kidnap people from their homes, you'll have to pardon me if I don't believe you. Your people seem rather practiced."

"Oh, no, that is a standard recruitment technique," Crandall said. Recruitment technique? Benton wondered. "We simply don't usually target anyone quite as prominent as you are."

Benton nodded, pursing his lips. "But these are extraordinary circumstances," he said in a slightly mocking tone. "Please get to the point."

Crandall raised an eyebrow. "Our chief miracle worker in R&D has suffered an unfortunate accident, leaving us in the lurch, so to speak."

"An accident?" Benton repeated skeptically.

"Yes, actually. A car accident, while he was on vacation. It was most vexing." Crandall shook his head. "It has left us with several important projects incomplete and no one to bring them to fruition. With deadlines pending, that's rather problematic."

Benton could see where this was going. "You want me to work for you?"

Crandall nodded. "In short, yes. There are seven projects that need your attention. While you're in the process of being medically certified, I can provide you with George's working notes to give you an idea of what you'll be -"

Benton held a hand up. "You're getting ahead of yourself, Mr. Crandall. I haven't agreed to this arrangement."

"But you will, Dr. Quest. That is if you ever want to see young Jonathon again."

Lowering his hand slowly, Benton stared at the very determined look on the man's face, feeling his gut clench.

* * *

Shortly after the forensics team had gotten started, another helicopter arrived carrying a pair of K-9 teams. Race got them started searching the grounds, then went into the house again to try and determine just what was missing. Jonny's roller blades were gone, as were many of his PlayStation 2 games. The machine itself was still there, but since the electromagnetic pulse that had knocked IRIS out had fried it, that wasn't surprising. Benton's entire cd collection was gone from his office and bedroom, and so was most of his summer weight clothing.

This was growing more alarming by the minute, and he still hadn't seen Bandit. He went into the storeroom to see what might have been taken from there, and the first thing that caught his attention was the fact that Bandit's carrier was gone. Kidnappers who took the time to put the dog in his own carrier were terrifying.

He made a quick survey of the rest of the contents of the room. Dr. Quest and Jonny's suitcases were gone as well. Jotting down which items specifically were missing, he headed back to the ground floor where the head of the forensic team met him at the foot of the stairs.

"We've identified the blood, Mr. Bannon," he said. "It's Jonathon Quest's."

A cold lump developed in Race's gut. "Have you determined how much he lost?"

"The amount of blood loss we can confirm would not be enough to be fatal, sir," the man said. "It looks as though he fell into the bushes and then, from the discarded packet we found in the wastebasket, the wound was stitched on the kitchen table." Race nodded. That was promising. You didn't stitch wounds on corpses. "We also found the left leg of a pair of jeans, cut off pretty high. There's a jagged tear on the outside thigh, consistent with the sort of damage that would have been done by the bushes." Good news and bad news, Race reflected. Thigh wounds can be damned dangerous. "Apart from hair samples that are consistent with the Quest boy, and fibers that likely came from his jeans, we have four distinct fiber samples that we have not been able, thus far, to match to anything in the house."

"I see. Good. Keep at it." He went outside to check on the dog teams. Both dogs had evidently led their handlers straight to the beach, or at least that's where they were gathered. _Great,_ Race thought. _A boat. So easy to track._ He was very glad that both Jessie and Hadji were too far away to take any foolish actions.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of one of the cameras, frozen in place where it should be turning, tracking the movements it sensed. It was pointing toward the spot on the beach where the handlers and dogs were congregated.

Hard copies! He turned and ran back to the house and down into the hub of the security network. On a day to day basis, IRIS stored data from the camera digitally, and, unless the images were specifically downloaded, they were lost after fifteen days. However, while he was gone, IRIS automatically stored all camera images on video discs in an ultra-compressed format for later reference. Even if the EM pulse had wiped the digital memory, the hard copies should still be there.

It took a bit of effort to get the discs out of the machine, but he slipped them into their cases and put them in his pocket until he could locate a machine that would play them. That done, he surveyed the damage to the computer network. The phone system was a mass of melted wires, and there was smoke residue on the vents of all the various machines. That had been one strong pulse. It was going to take a mint to rebuild this system, not least because the whole house would have to be rewired. Even if some of the wiring was still capable of carrying current, for safety's sake they'd have to have it all replaced.

Race went back out into daylight just in time to see Phil Corvin coming up from the airstrip. "Race!" he called. "Any news?"

Race waited until they were in easy talking distance before he spoke. "The blood was Jonny's. It looks like he fell into the bushes under his bedroom window and gashed his thigh. They took the time to stitch the wound, though."

"That's a good sign. You don't fix somebody you're planning to kill."

Ignoring the chill that sent through him, Race shrugged. "Oh, and they took the dog. In his carrier."

"The dog?" Corvin exclaimed. "Why would they take the dog?"

"I don't know. Maybe for the same reason they took all of Benton's music and Jonny's roller blades? It doesn't look much like a ransom kind of situation. For one thing, there haven't been any demands." Race's eyes narrowed. "Or have there?"

"None." Corvin shook his head. "But there are all sorts of people who wouldn't mind getting their hands on Benton Quest and a hostage to use to force his hand."

Race had to admit that Phil had a point. But so far, there weren't even any clues as to who took them, much less why. In the absence of an obvious villain, they would have to start at the most basic level of detective work.

"All right, Phil," he said, pulling the data discs out of his pocket. "You got anything with you that will read these?"

* * *

Jonny was frustrated. He'd refused absolutely to sit in the wheelchair and be pushed along by these bozos. When he'd gotten to the doctor's office, she'd treated him like he was about six and a moron to boot, doing everything short of offering him a lollipop to take his shots like a good boy. Evidently that was what the guy with the gun was for.

Somehow, they'd gotten ahold of his immunization records, so he didn't have to go through the whole range of shots, but they'd given him a tetanus booster and a TB test. Now he was sitting in a room that looked like it was designed for small meetings. Ten rolling chairs surrounded a utilitarian sort of table, and there was a whiteboard, an overhead projector screen and a TV/VCR that was mounted to the wall. The guard was outside the room, but there was nothing useful in here. He could see several dataports, but without a computer, he wasn't going to be making use of any of them. There wasn't even a phone.

He wanted to know when they were going to let him go back to where his father was, and he wanted to know what was going on. He also wanted to pound on Crandall for a while, but that didn't look like it was going to happen either.

They had given him a couple of books he'd already read years ago, a deck of cards and a magazine of crossword puzzles to keep him occupied, but all he wanted was to see his father.

* * *

Benton stared at Crandall, trying to digest the threat. The man was deathly serious, Benton could tell from his eyes and the posture of his shoulders. Whether he meant that he would kill Jonny or just that he would take him somewhere that Benton would have trouble finding him seemed immaterial at the moment.

"I see," he said slowly, trying to still the shaking of his hands. "Well, then, suppose you give me the notes and I'll see what I can do."

"I'm glad to see that you can be practical, Dr. Quest. I really wasn't looking forward to having to prove that I was serious."

Benton decided not to ask just how he would have done that. "How long do you plan on keeping us?"

"Well, that really depends on you," Crandall said. "You're here primarily to complete the seven projects that George left unfinished. The deadlines for these projects will all come up over the next three months or so. Once that's done, if it's done in a reasonable amount of time, we'll let you and Jonny go, assuming you still want to leave at that point." Benton's eyes widened. "You might even be back home in time for Jonny to start school in the fall."

_Three months or so? And then he'll let us leave?_ "Who exactly are these projects for?" he asked neutrally.

"That's not really your concern, now, is it, Dr. Quest?" Crandall said in a reasonable voice. "You're Research and Development, not Customer Service. Everything you need to know is in George's notes, which I will send your way as soon as I'm back in my office. In the meantime, you will also need to undergo a physical examination. We have stringent health requirements for our employees, which you and Jonathon will have to meet."

"Where is Jonny now?" Benton asked, keeping his tone level and calm by a great stint of effort.

"He's nearby, being entertained," Crandall said, his expression just a touch smug. "Your exam will likely take an hour or so, and then you will be returned here for lunch and the notes will be delivered at that point. Jonathon will stay where he is for the time being. Once you've had some time to go over the information in the notes, you and I will meet again to discuss your course of action."

"I'd like to see him now," Benton said.

"I'm sorry, but that won't be possible. I know you're used to scheduling your own time, Dr. Quest, but you must recognize that this situation simply does not allow for that." Crandall stood. "Patricia should be back any moment now. She will take you to see Dr. Pascale. Please cooperate, Dr. Quest." The man smiled, and there was a malicious glint in his eyes. "I guarantee that if you don't, you will not like the results."

With that, Crandall left the room. Benton stared at the door after the villain shut it behind him. What were these projects? What was he going to have to do to keep Jonny safe? _Race,_ he thought, _there's no time like the present._

True to Crandall's word, Patricia, the medical assistant, arrived moments later accompanied by a husky young man with a gun. All too aware that he could do nothing while Jonny was still missing, Benton made no objections when they took him out of the room.

The hallways they passed through were largely deserted and had no windows. The slight deadness to the sounds they made as they walked through the corridors suggested that the building was either heavily soundproofed or that they were underground. The walls were painted a pale shade of green and there were no paintings or posters. The place seemed quite barren.

The doctor's office was much the same. Patricia weighed him, then had him sit on the examination table while she took his blood pressure and temperature. She drew blood into four separate vials and asked for a urine sample. Benton complied, though he was irritated by the poking and prodding. They'd brought him here after all, it seemed a bit much to demand a medical exam on top of that.

Furthermore, Dr. Pascale was one of those doctors who treated her patients as if they were mentally defective. That was aggravating at the best of times. In these circumstances it was nearly intolerable.

When the exam was finally done, the guard guided him back to the pair of rooms. At least, he thought they were the same rooms. The halls were so bland that they were maze-like, probably on purpose, to confound escape attempts.

Once he was in the sitting room, the guard left him alone. Benton stared disgustedly after the retreating figure. Race would advise him to befriend the fellow, to make of him a source of information and possible help, but he couldn't bring himself to make the effort. Crandall had said that he and Jonny would be released when the projects he wanted done were complete. Benton wondered how much he could believe him.

Opening the door to the bedroom, he saw that Bandit was asleep on the bed. He left the door open so that the little dog could join him if he woke up.

A note lay on the coffee table on top of a pile of seven thick file folders. A phone sat nearby, plugged into a jack in the floor. Picking up the note, he scanned it.

_Your lunch is in the refrigerator._

_These are copies of George's notes. If you have any difficulty deciphering the writing, dial 874 and Cheryl will help you. She has the originals ready to hand. The phone is a dedicated inside line with no access to the land lines, so don't waste your time trying to call for help._

_I will be back to see you at 7:00. I don't expect you to have memorized the files, but I will expect you to have a solid understanding of the purpose and goals of each project. Be prepared to discuss possible plans._

_Crandall_

Setting the note aside, Benton opened the top file with some trepidation. He didn't know what sort of work Crandall needed done that he felt it necessitated kidnapping him and Jonny to accomplish it. He reluctantly sat down and started to go over the information.

The files were very clearly organized with an ingenious indexing system. Attached to the inside front cover of each file was a sheet with an abstract detailing the goals of each project, estimated work time, proposed work schedule and deadline. Then there was a table of contents which covered every single sheet of paper and cocktail napkin the file contained. George was evidently one of those people whose ideas came at unexpected moments, for his notes were written on a wide variety of different items, from the backs of receipts to paper bags.

Following the index was a brief summary of the work done so far, including both negative and positive results. He glanced through the summaries, feeling slightly sick at the sight of some of the descriptions. Two of them he set aside after a cursory perusal. He simply didn't have sufficient knowledge or skill to tackle either reverse engineering a drug or creating an anthrax vaccine. Hopefully Crandall would understand that.

The others were distressingly possible, which left five files that he had to have a reasonable grasp of before seven o'clock. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. Twelve-thirty. Six and a half hours. That gave him an hour and six minutes per file.

Three of them were straightforward engineering problems. Creating a tank capable of higher speeds could be challenging, but he was more than capable of the calculations and design work involved. Similarly, he knew that, given enough time, he could build a universal lock pick capable of penetrating everything from palm print to retinal scan to voice print security. He had a feeling that there were others elsewhere who were working on methods to further miniaturize and reduce the weight of Generation III night vision binoculars, and probably many who were more suited to the task than he was, but he had sufficient knowledge to make a credible attempt.

It appeared from the notes in the fourth file that computer programming hadn't been George's forte. He was supposed to develop a virus that would untraceably invade a target computer system, download every piece of data on it, then scramble the target computer's memory.

Benton found himself wondering if George's death had been as accidental as Crandall claimed. People who didn't balk at kidnapping, who in fact described abduction as a 'recruitment technique,' would not likely flinch at killing someone who wasn't measuring up to snuff. Perhaps George hadn't had children to threaten.

It was a distracting train of thought. Benton wrenched his mind away from it and back to the final project. It was distinctly problematic. They had a nerve gas that was extremely effective against human targets - and Benton didn't want to know just how they'd determined that - but they wanted it to be upgraded slightly. That was the word the abstract used: upgraded. They wanted it to penetrate the filters on standard issue military gas masks, but the key was that it should happen slowly, so that the victims would be well within the affected area before they realized that their masks had been compromised.

He might not have been able to develop the gas itself, with its specific effects on the human nervous system, but creating something to carry it through the filter or to cause the filter to gradually degrade was just within his capacity. He wondered if he could persuade Crandall that it was outside his capabilities. Somehow he doubted it. He wasn't even sure Crandall would let him off the hook on the two projects he truly didn't have the expertise for.

The hands of the clock kept moving, snipping away the minutes that remained till seven. Benton wished he knew where Jonny was and what he was doing.


	4. Hard Evidence

After a couple of hours sitting in an upright chair, Jonny's leg was aching. He got up and limped over to one of the walls, taking the cards and the crossword puzzle book with him. Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself to the floor so he could stretch his leg out.

What was that jerk Crandall doing to his father? What did he want him to do? People were always grabbing his dad to try and make him build something, or find something, or blow something up. That is, if they weren't just trying to kill him to keep him from finding them out.

If Jonny hadn't gone and gotten himself captured, they wouldn't have anything to hold against his father, and he could do whatever he needed to do to get away. Instead, Jonny had actually made things harder by getting hurt. Now his father wouldn't run because of what Crandall might do to him.

The door opened and Jonny looked up to see who was coming in. He hoped it would be Race, and that he'd get to watch Race beating the crud out of Crandall. Unfortunately it was just the guard, who looked startled to find that Jonny wasn't sitting at the table.

"Where are - oh," he said. "Why are you down there?"

Jonny shrugged. "What's it to you?"

The man wrinkled his brows, seeming puzzled by Jonny's hostility. "The medical technician wants us to move you to a different room where you'll be more comfortable."

"I'd be comfortable wherever my dad is," Jonny offered.

"That's not up to me. Do you need help standing up?"

"I'm not moving until you take me back to my father."

He blinked. "I could carry you."

"Just try it!" Jonny said, brandishing the pen that was his only weapon.

"I don't understand why you're so angry," the man said, sounding sulky.

Jonny rolled his eyes. "You do know you're a minion, don't you?" he asked sarcastically.

"What?"

"A minion. You know, a thug who works for the bad guys?" Jonny raised his eyebrows in a scornful expression.

"I am not a thug!" the man declared self-righteously. "And the people I work for are not 'the bad guys.'"

"Yeah, whatever." Jonny shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere unless it's to see my father."

The guard stared down at him for a couple seconds, then he went out and shut the door. Jonny thumped his head against the wall. Great. They were being held captive by a band of deluded idiots. He raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. What would happen if he undeluded one of them?

The door opened again and the woman from the doctor's office came in. Patricia. The guard was behind her, looking frustrated. "Jonny?" she said, squatting down in front of him. "You really should let Paul move you to a room with a bed in it."

"Unless it also has my father in it, I'm not interested," Jonny said stubbornly. "And my dog."

"We might be able to arrange for your dog, but your father is busy."

Jonny crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. "Thanks, but no thanks," he said. "I'll just sit here and be uncomfortable."

"What good does that do you or your father, Jonny?" she asked in a persuasive voice. "There's no point in sitting in here on the floor. If some people had the brains God gave a grasshopper, they wouldn't have put you in here in the first place." Jonny just turned his head away, ignoring her. "Are you hungry?"

There was a rebellious rumbling in his belly, but Jonny ignored that, too. "I'm not eating anything without my father's say-so."

"What?" she exclaimed. "Come now, Jonny. That's not reasonable."

"My family follows certain rules when in the field. One of them is that none of us kids accept food from strangers." He gave her a sarcastic smirk. "Or minions. You qualify on both counts."

She tilted her head, her ponytail hanging to the side, and gave him a bemused look. "I'm a minion?" she asked.

"Well, yeah! It's probably in your job description. In the fine print that you forgot to read."

"Come on, honey, you can't stay here on the floor," she said, leaning closer and starting to take his arm. He jabbed the pen at her, but Paul caught his arm before he could connect and yanked him to his feet. Jonny let out an involuntary cry of pain.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Paul demanded.

Patricia stood up and exclaimed, "Paul, what do you think you're doing? Let him go."

"He tried to stab you with a pen," the guard said, letting go of the death grip he had on Jonny's arm. Jonny stumbled and caught his balance against the wall, glaring at the creep.

"He's scared and angry. That's normal when they first get here." Jonny blinked and backed up a couple of steps. Normal? he thought. How often do they do this?

"I want my father!" he growled.

Patricia turned back to him. "Now, Jonny, I'm sorry, but I have no authority over that. I can only get you moved to a more comfortable room."

Jonny sighed. He had a feeling that if he tried to sit back down, Paul would grab him again even if Patricia objected. "Fine. Whatever. That thug there can make me do whatever you tell me to, anyway. I can't stop him." Paul was beginning to look seriously annoyed, but Jonny didn't care.

She reached out to put an arm around his shoulders, but he drew back despite the fact that it hurt to move. Sighing, she gave him a rueful smile. "All right, then. Follow me."

They walked through the blank hallways to a room that was a lot like the one he'd woken up in, except for two important differences. His dad wasn't here, and neither was Bandit. He looked up at Patricia. "What about Bandit? You said you could get my dog."

Paul spoke up before she could respond. "You lost your chance at having the dog in here when you tried to stab Patricia. Now, here's the remote control. If you call up channel 4 on the cable, you'll get a TV listing. Lie down and keep quiet."

Patricia was glaring at Paul, but she didn't say anything as they left him alone in the room. Jonny explored every nook and cranny, but there was no way out besides the door that had Paul on the other side of it. And everything that he might have been able to use to knock the big guy out was bolted to the floor. At last he sank onto the bed in frustration.

A few minutes later, Patricia came in with a bowl of soup and some grilled cheese sandwiches. He ignored her when she tried to talk to him, flipping on the cable instead. She set the tray down on the bedside table and left. When she was gone, he found himself struggling to hold back tears, wondering if he was ever going to see his dad again.

* * *

Race watched the arrival of the boat again on Phil's laptop. Phil stood watching over his shoulder. It stopped just outside IRIS's sensor range, and there were no people visible on the deck before the cameras died. "The registry number is Canadian," Phil observed. "We shouldn't have too much trouble tracking it down."

Raising his eyebrows, Race said, "Which most likely means that they don't think we can get any useful information out of it." He froze the image on the registry number and jotted it down. "They would be wrong, however," he muttered.

Phil was already on the phone to Transport Canada to find out who owned the boat. Race handed him the number and within minutes they had the information that it was owned by Brown's Boats, a rental firm out of Nova Scotia. Obtaining the phone number from information, Phil called and ascertained that the boat had been returned earlier that day, and that its radio was fried.

"Keep it there, please," Phil said. "That vessel was the scene of a crime. It must be sealed off. No one must be allowed on or off the boat. It must not be touched or tampered with in any way. The Canadian authorities will be there shortly to quarantine the vessel." When Corvin disconnected, he turned to Race and said, "Call Nadine and get a forensics team scrambled and ready to go. And find out where the nearest airstrip is." Then he called his opposite number in Canada and started the negotiations required to get an American investigation started on foreign soil, simultaneously walking swiftly toward his plane.

Following him, Race put in the requested call. They were in the air within ten minutes and on their way. After giving the pilot the heads up on where they were going, Race sat down in the back, listening to Phil dicker for clearance. It seemed to take forever.

Finally Phil closed his phone. "We've got it. I called in a couple of favors. Is the team ready?"

"Nadine should have them in the air by now. They'll meet us there."

"Good."

It was a short hop from Maine to Nova Scotia. The drive from the airstrip to the boat rental place took longer than their flight did. By the time they reached the docks, Race was itching for action, but they were the first to arrive. The local authorities had cordoned off the boat quite properly. Race stared at it in frustration, aware that he couldn't cross that line until the forensics team had given the okay.

Turning away, he went into the office, which was attached to a modest two-story house. The business was owned by a married couple who looked to be in their mid to late forties. The man had dark hair and was somewhat stout, and his wife was blond. Their names were Joseph and Emma Brown. After identifying himself, he asked if they had any security cameras.

"Oh, yes, sir," Emma said, shaking her head. "Boat theft has become a serious problem of late. We have two cameras covering the docks and one in here." She pointed up at the one in the back corner of the office.

Race smiled. Things were looking up. "Do you record the images?"

"Yes," said Joseph. "We cycle through the tapes every couple of weeks. Those kids rented that boat three days ago, so we should still have the tapes." He scratched his head. "Give me a minute and I'll find them." He left the front room of the office going toward the house.

Race turned to Emma. "So, tell me about these kids that rented the boat."

"Oh, they were just kids, really. About college age, I'd guess, six of them. Three boys and three girls. They had all the licenses they needed to operate the boat, and there didn't seem to be anything odd about them. What did they do?"

"We're not sure, exactly," Race prevaricated. "Did they say where they were going?"

"Deep sea fishing, they said." She grinned. "But they didn't have any equipment for it. I figured they were just going out to - you know." She shrugged. "Play around a little."

That was probably just the impression they'd wanted to leave to throw anyone off their tracks. Race wondered who they were.

"Did you notice anything unusual about them? Any identifying marks, scars?"

"One of the girls had braces," she said thoughtfully. "They were just a bunch of attractive kids as far as I could tell. Americans, of course, but they had all the right documents."

"Did any of them say where they were from?"

She shook her head. "The only one of them that did much talking was more interested in the weather. The other five seemed a bit distracted." Shrugging again, she added, "I thought I knew what by, but maybe I was wrong."

Her husband came back into the office again with six video tapes. "These are from about the right time," he said, holding them out.

"Do you have a machine where we could view them?" Race asked eagerly.

"Sure. Come on inside and I'll get you something to drink."

"Just a minute." Race poked his head out the door to yell for Corvin, but he was way out on the docks, talking to the team. Instead of trying to make himself heard across that distance, he pulled out his phone and called him. "Phil?"

"Race? What is it?"

"They've got security tapes of the people who rented the boat. I thought you might want to see."

"Give me five minutes," Phil said, then disconnected.

* * *

Benton could have sworn that the clock on the wall wasn't really moving. The time was passing very slowly. The sooner he talked to Crandall, the sooner he would see Jonny again. He refused to even consider the notion that Crandall wouldn't let him see his son. He had to.

Bandit had woken up and had come in to lie down by Benton's feet. Wherever Jonny was, he was alone. He didn't even have the comfort of his dog. Benton shoved the anger he felt down to a compressed simmer. There was nothing he could do about that now.

On the dot of seven o'clock, the door to the bedroom opened, and he heard footsteps approaching. Bandit jumped up and started barking. Putting the file he'd been attempting to read aside, he picked Bandit up and hushed him. Crandall walked in through the door followed by his guard. He paused and raised an eyebrow at the dog's presence.

"Perhaps that should wait in the other room while we talk?" he said, pointing at Bandit.

Grimacing, Benton got up and put Bandit through the door and shut it behind the little dog. Bandit's sense of his own size was grossly exaggerated. His protectiveness had gotten him into trouble before, and Benton had no wish to risk him now. He turned back to face Crandall who had seated himself as before.

"Have you gone through the files?"

"I have."

"What have you got to say?"

Benton wet his lips nervously. "I presume, under the circumstances, that you know something about my capabilities." Crandall nodded, his expression reserved. "There are two of these that fall outside my area of expertise. I'm not sufficiently versed in medical research to reverse engineer the cancer drug, nor to develop an anthrax vaccine."

"No?" Crandall said in a thoughtful tone. "That's probably true. Your specialities lie in other directions. Very well, I will make other arrangements regarding those two." Benton wondered uneasily if that meant abducting some other scientist and a hostage. "As for the others," Crandall continued, "since you have not mentioned them, I take it you believe you can accomplish them?"

"It may not be as simple as that," Benton said. "But I know enough about the subjects to make a realistic attempt."

"Please give me some idea of the avenues you would follow in each."

Pursing his lips in irritation, Benton picked up the first file. There was a reason he preferred working on his own to answering to some higher authority. He started outlining possible procedures for each of the projects, starting with the lock pick. He had moved on to the tank when he heard the sound of voices in the next room. A moment later, the door opened and a guard stuck his head in.

"Sir, Patricia wants to speak with you. She says it's urgent."

Benton was on his feet before he realized that he was moving. Patricia was the medical assistant. Had something happened to Jonny? The guard behind Crandall's chair raised his rifle to point it at him and Benton froze.

Crandall rose smoothly. "I will go speak with Patricia. Dr. Quest, I recommend you sit back down and wait. I won't be a moment."

Benton subsided into the chair. There wasn't much else he could do with that young thug pointing a gun at him. If Jonny had been hurt again . . . . Benton buried his face in his hands. What could he do? He was helpless. Crandall held all the cards as long as he had control over Jonny's well being.

Benton sat and waited, listening to his heart pound in his ears.

* * *

Jonny thought this was the craziest cable he'd ever heard of. They must have their own system, because he couldn't imagine they'd make money only showing old movies, old television shows and documentaries. There also weren't any commercials. He wondered how they managed it. Maybe they downloaded straight from the satellites and bypassed the standard cable networks.

He'd watched an episode of Gilligan's Island, followed by I Love Lucy. He fell asleep before Lucy had managed to get herself into trouble yet again. When he woke up, it was showing The Dick Van Dyke Show.

Disgusted, he turned it off and scooted up to a sitting position again. He wished he had the crossword book back.

The door opened abruptly, startling him into jumping, and Jonny hissed at the pain this caused him. He glared up to see who was coming in, but it was only Patricia, carrying another tray of food. "You didn't eat your lunch, Jonny," she said chidingly.

He shrugged. "I told you. I'm not supposed to accept food from strangers or people working for the bad guy." She let out an exasperated sigh and started to speak, but he cut her off. "You might as well take both trays away. I'm not going to eat anything until I've seen and spoken to my father."

"You're being unreasonable."

"Who said I had to be reasonable?" he said in a patient tone. "I'm the one who got kidnapped, knocked off the wall of my house and separated from my father. Besides, I'm twelve. Everyone knows that twelve-year-olds are the least reasonable people around, right?" He gave her a snarky grin. "I've got all the excuses in the world for being as obnoxious as possible."

"Still, you've got to eat. You're a growing boy."

"Whatever. My dad would kill me if I took food from you. I told you, it's a family rule." She just shook her head. "You said something earlier about how my reaction is normal? Angry and afraid, I think you said?"

"Yes. But -"

"You don't get it," he said, sighing deeply. "This isn't the first time I've ever been kidnapped. I'd bet most of the kids you get are kind of scared and don't know what to do. I'm not like that. This is normal life for me."

"You can't be serious."

Jonny shrugged. "My dad builds something some bad guy wants, the bad guy grabs one of us and tries to get it. We always get away, the bad guys never get what they want, and that's just the way things are." He gave her another grin. "Sometimes the bad guys even get very dead."

"We're not the bad guys, Jonny. We're just a corporation, looking out for its interests."

Jonny cocked his head and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Let's see, a corporation that kidnaps kids and threatens to hurt them if their fathers don't do what they're told. Sounds like a bad guy to me. All that stuff about looking after interests, that's just weaseling out of responsibility."

She gave him a troubled look. "This isn't about the corporation. This is about you eating your dinner."

"And I've already told you. I won't eat unless I see and talk to my dad."

Pursing her lips, she turned and left the room, leaving the food behind. It was grilled chicken with zucchini and squash and fresh buttered bread. It smelled wonderful. His stomach growled, but this was the only card he had and he was going to play it for all it was worth.

He slumped back against the wall, wondering what Patricia was going to do.

A few moments later, he straightened abruptly when Crandall came in followed by an armed guard who wasn't Paul. "What's this I hear about you refusing to eat, Jonathon?" he asked, walking over to the bed and looking down at him.

Jonny gazed up defiantly, trying not to notice how the man towered over him. "It's a family rule not to eat food that strangers give you."

"I'm not a stranger," Crandall said, giving him a barbed smile. "I'm the man who's holding you and your father prisoner. That's a fairly close relationship, after all's said and done." Jonny wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, so he didn't speak. Squatting down beside the bed, Crandall leaned very close. "Ultimately, I'm the one who determines whether your father leaves this place with you or without you." Jonny gulped.

"I still have to have permission from my dad," he said. "He has to tell me himself because I don't trust you." Taking a deep breath, he added, "Which is only reinforced by this menacing act thingy."

Crandall's eyes glinted. "You think it's an act, do you?" he said, putting his hand on the bandage that covered Jonny's stitches. Jonny looked at the hand, which went practically all the way around his leg. What was he doing? He looked up to see Crandall gazing into his eyes. At the moment their eyes met, the man gave him a nasty smile and began pressing his thumb hard into the wound. Jonny let out a cry of pain, but he couldn't shift away. Crandall's eyes bored into his, much the way his thumb was digging into the gash on his leg, and he was still smiling. Jonny dropped his eyes, and after a moment, the man released the pressure and stood back up. "Understand this, boy, I'm not acting a part here, and you are in very real danger."

Jonny didn't say anything, what could he say? He just turned away and crossed his arms. He felt weak and trembly, and his leg ached horribly.

"Now, because you're a child and this is very early in the proceedings, I am going to allow you to see your father." Jonny looked up at him, hope flaring. Crandall's expression darkened. "But don't get the idea that you can pull this again. I don't like games." Leaning down again, he grabbed Jonny's upper arm and yanked him to the edge of the bed. "Get up."

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Jonny got to his feet. Crandall didn't let go of his arm as he dragged him out of the room. Patricia was just outside, and her eyes widened when she saw the way Crandall was pulling him along. Fortunately, it wasn't very far to where his father was.

The guard opened an unmarked door that looked just like all the other doors on the hallway and Crandall jerked Jonny inside and through into another room where his father sat in a wingback chair. Jonny's leg hurt so much now that he had to fight to keep tears from leaking out the corners of his eyes.

* * *

Benton was worried. Crandall had been gone a long time. What was he doing? When the door opened again, he started to stand up, but the guard raised the gun again. Benton sat reluctantly back down.

A moment later, Crandall came back in holding Jonny by the upper arm and yanking him along without regard for his injury. His son's face was pale and tense with pain, and his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

Benton jumped up and ran to Jonny's side. "Let go of him, you're hurting him!"

Crandall didn't release his grip on Jonny's arm. "I know," he said calmly. Benton knelt beside his son and put an arm around Jonny's waist, prepared to pick him up when the villain let him go. The angle Crandall was holding his arm at forced Jonny to stand on tiptoe. "He was being insolent. Tell me, do you have any family rules that would cover this situation?"

Raising his eyebrows, Benton said, "I can think of half a dozen. Why?"

"He says he can't eat anything we give him without your permission."

"That is one of our rules," Benton said. A pleading note entered his voice as he went on. "Will you please let him go?"

Crandall released Jonny with a shove and Benton lifted the boy off his feet and put him down on the sofa, kneeling beside him once more. The bandage over the stitches was showing signs of recent seepage, and Benton gave Crandall a covert glare. Thus far, Jonny hadn't spoken, which was unusual for his son. On occasion, both he and Race had worried that Jonny's defiant attitude would get him into serious trouble.

"What's he supposed to do if he gets lost?" Crandall asked curiously, gazing at them with cool calculation. "If he's among strangers, what's he supposed to do, starve?"

"There are rules that cover that situation as well," Benton snapped. "They aren't relevant here."

"Ah." Crandall walked back over to his chair and sat down. "Well, perhaps you could give the boy permission to eat what we've given him, and Marcus will take him back to where his dinner is growing cold."

"I haven't seen what you've given him," Benton said automatically.

Crandall rose, seeming to expand with fury. Benton sensed Jonny shrinking beside him, and put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Do you think I'm play acting, Dr. Quest?" Crandall demanded. "I believe young Jonathon's now cured of that notion. Do I need to take steps to cure you?"

Benton stood as well. "No, I don't think that. But you can't expect me to -"

"I expect you to do as you're told, Dr. Quest," Crandall thundered. "Nothing more, nothing less. I have no interest in your family rules, and I don't want to be disturbed in this manner again. You will instruct Jonathon to do what he's told by my subordinates, and not to back talk them."

Inhaling deeply, Benton turned back to his son and knelt down again. "Jonny, you heard the man. Do what they tell you, and eat your dinner."

"I don't want to go away, Dad," Jonny said quietly. "I don't want to be alone."

Benton glanced back over his shoulder. "At least send his dog with him."

"Very well."

"Where is Bandit?" Jonny asked suddenly, sitting up. "What have you done with him?"

"I simply had Marcus put him in the bathroom to keep him from being underfoot." He glanced at the man in question. "Marcus, take young Mr. Quest back to his room, and then come back for the dog."

Benton helped Jonny get back to his feet and gave him a quick hug. "We'll be okay, Jonny. Everything will be all right."

"I know," Jonny said, hugging him back very tightly. He pulled away and limped disconsolately out of the room, followed by the burly guard. Benton watched him go, a chill coming over him. Jonny had always been defiant and a little overconfident in his dealings with the villains they'd faced in the past. He would speak out, and he would insist on being heard. And, it appeared, Crandall would punish him for it. Benton felt himself begin to shake with repressed rage.

"It's time we began again, Dr. Quest. I believe we were discussing the tank project."

Benton mastered himself and turned toward Crandall. "Yes, the tank project." Sinking into the chair, he outlined the techniques he thought would work. Crandall listened, nodding periodically, as calm and unruffled as before. This man was a sociopath, and he had complete control over Jonny's welfare.

Where were they? What was taking Race so long?


	5. Before It's Too Late

Patricia was out in the hall when Jonny exited the room. He ignored her and just walked back the way they had come. Marcus opened the door and gestured him in, closing it behind him. Crandall was scary. Very scary. He felt pathetic. Jessie and Hadji wouldn't be scared, but then neither of them would have fallen off the side of the house.

He sat down on the bed and picked up the plate with the chicken. It still looked and smelled good, but he felt sick to his stomach. Putting it back on the bedside table, he waited, hoping that Marcus would really bring Bandit. When the door opened, the small dog erupted into the room with a flurry of barks and growls directed toward the guard.

Jonny patted the bed next to him and called, "Bandit! Come!"

Bandit jumped up on the bed next to him and started licking his face. Jonny scratched his ears and stroked his back, glad that his friend was okay, but wishing they'd left him behind where he was safe. He curled up around his dog and fell asleep.

* * *

Race gazed around the deck of the boat. The technicians were all busy inside, but they'd cleared them to look over the topside of the vessel. Night had fallen, but the area was lit with flood lights.

They had watched all the video tapes and Emma Brown was right. They just looked like college kids. Two of the girls and one of the boys were blond, one boy looked Asian, and the other two kids had brown hair. There was nothing remarkable about any of them. Except that they were unfailingly polite. Both Emma and Joseph had commented on it as they watched, and the video tapes bore out their statements.

Under the circumstances, one might expect a group of kids to be a little loud, a little excited, perhaps a little more interested in one another than they should be in public, but there was none of that. It made him distinctly nervous, reminding him of some cults he'd run into.

Race bent and peered at the wiring to the running lights. He called Joseph over and pointed. "When was the last time this boat had any of this wiring replaced?" he asked.

"Don't recall that it ever has," Joseph said. "I can check the repair logs if you want." Race nodded, and the man started to turn away. He paused, though, and added, "That's odd."

"What?"

"Those aren't the lights it had before. I didn't really notice when I checked it in, but those are new." He glanced around at the other running lights. "They're all new. I've never seen them before."

Corvin walked up to them. "Have you noticed something, Race?" he asked.

"This wiring is brand new," he said. "And look at that light fixture. It's shiny, hasn't been dulled by use or the elements."

"I never put these on," Joseph said. "And I do all the maintenance work, so it would have had to be me."

"What was wrong with the radio?" Corvin asked.

"It looked there was some kind of fire inside it. All the circuitry was fused."

"The EM pulse," Race said. "They replaced the wiring and the lights, but they probably figured he'd notice if the radio was changed."

"And it would be believable that they'd destroyed the radio," Corvin added.

"Sir?" called one of the forensic technicians. "You've got to see this." Race and Corvin hurried across to join her as she led them down the narrow companionway along the side of the cabins. "We were going through one of the rooms and we found some fragments of denim with blood on them, so once they'd dusted for prints, I sprayed some luminol on the walls and floor, just to be safe."

"And you found something?" Race asked.

"You've got to see it. It's ingenious, but kind of creepy," she added, shuddering. "In here."

Race followed Corvin into the room and saw what she meant right away. Luminol is an agent that can reveal the presence of bloodstains that have been scrubbed away by soap and water, sometimes even when they've been painted over. Low on the wall by the bed, there were two bloodstains, clearly outlined by the luminol. A letter "B" and a letter "J". Benton had been here for certain, with Jonny, and he'd known that a bloodstain would show it.

He left the cabin to get some fresh air. Benton had to have been desperate to use that tactic, and the knowledge that Jonny had been bleeding enough to make it possible made Race want to break things. Preferably the neck of whoever'd made the boy bleed in the first place.

Corvin joined him on the deck a few moments later. "Well, that together with the wiring and the radio makes it certain that this was the boat used to kidnap them."

"I'd better get to tracking those kids. Emma gave me the license number of the car they drove here in, so I've got somewhere to start."

"You can't start just yet," Corvin said. "Unless -" He paused, watching a car pull into the well lit parking lot. "I think that may be your liaison."

"My what?" Race exclaimed.

"I got permission for you to carry out an investigation here, but I had to agree to let them assign you one of their agents as a liaison." Race opened his mouth to object, but Corvin held up a hand. "It makes sense, Race. You have no authority to demand that people answer your questions up here. Your liaison will." The no nonsense tone Phil was using made it clear that he would brook no complaints. Race sighed, hoping he wasn't about to be saddled with a liability.

The car was a dark green Ford Escort, neither new nor old, but well kept. The door opened and Race felt his eyebrows climb. The woman, like her car, was neither young nor old, but she was definitely well kept. Her hair was chestnut brown, cut in a short, sensible style that framed her face. She wore dark blue jeans and a yellow short sleeved top.

He leaned against the railing. "Is that my liaison?" he asked.

"I was just told one would be showing up." They watched as she pulled a badge out of a back pocket and showed it to the guard at the bottom the ramp. "I'd guess so, though, from the looks of that." The guard pointed to them and let her through.

She walked up to them and addressed Corvin. "Are you Director Corvin of I-1?"

"Yes, I am. And you are?"

"Lt. Diana McCormick. Chief Kiley sent me, said you needed a liaison officer to work with one of your agents." She glanced around. "So, which of your agents am I going to have to babysit?"

Race bristled. "Babysit?! I don't have time for this, Corvin."

"Calm down, Race," Corvin said. "Lt. McCormick, this is Agent Race Bannon. I'll leave it to him to explain the mission. I'm going below to see if they've located anything else." With that Phil left. Race glared after him, then transferred his glare to the woman who stood before him.

"So what's this mission, Agent Bannon?" she asked, raising a single eyebrow.

"You ever heard of Dr. Benton Quest?"

"Who hasn't?"

"Well, he and his twelve-year-old son Jonny were kidnapped from their home yesterday," he said in a harsh voice. "Jonny was severely injured in the process. We know he was injured because we found his blood all over the kitchen." Her eyes widened. "We traced them to this boat and need to track the people who rented it. You up to that, Lieutenant? Or is babysitting your forte?"

She blinked. "I guess I deserved that. I'm sorry, I thought this was some bail jumper or bench warrant thing. Kiley didn't say anything about kidnapping."

He gazed at her silently for a moment, and she had the grace to look abashed. Finally, he said, "I've got the license plate number off their car and copies of the documents they showed to rent the boat. God knows if they're forged, but even that could tell us something."

"Can I see them?" she asked, and he handed her the file reluctantly. "How did they get hold of them? I'd heard that the Quests had some kind of amazing security expert put together their defenses."

Race took in a deep breath and sighed. "They used an EM pulse. The security system had enough shielding to survive a low level EM pulse, but they one they used was so strong it melted the wiring in the walls." Her eyebrows rose. He sighed, and shook his head. "I should have come up with stronger shielding for the main systems."

"You're Dr. Quest's security man?"

He gave her a tight smile. "I'm Jonny's bodyguard. I was gone yesterday taking my daughter to visit her mother in Argentina."

"No doubt they were waiting for just such an opportunity," she said.

He shrugged. "Corvin called to find out who owned the car. Apparently, it's a rental, and it hasn't been returned yet. Rapid Rentals."

"There are Rapid Rentals offices all over this part of Canada," she said. "They could return it almost anywhere."

"Yeah," Race said glumly. "We've got an alert out to the individual offices, so we should get a call whenever it's returned."

"But that could be three days from now in Manitoba for all we know."

"Right."

"Have you alerted the police?" she asked. "They could keep an eye out for that car on the roads."

"A bulletin was sent out. Your traffic police should be watching for them."

She was glancing through the file. "They're not exactly going to stand out, are they?" she commented. "Let's get these scanned so we can check them against our files." Flipping the file shut, she looked at him. "So, has there been a ransom demand?"

"No. No demands at all."

"That's not good. Are you sure they're not -"

"I doubt it," he said sharply, cutting off the word he didn't want to hear. "They stitched Jonny's leg. That doesn't strike me as a prelude to murder."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I guess not. But doesn't Dr. Quest have a lot of enemies?"

"Let's focus on finding them, all right?" The image of Jonny, injured and in some bastard's hands, made Race's blood boil. He didn't want to think about it.

"So what's our first step?" she asked.

"Let's get you a sight of the video footage. That's a darn sight better for recognizing someone than photocopied ID pictures." She nodded and he took her back up to the house.

Zin would want to kill them personally, he couldn't help thinking. There were half a dozen people he could think of offhand who might feel that way, some of whom had specific grudges against Jonny as well as Benton. He tried to put such negative thoughts out of his mind, but they kept turning over and over again, calling up horrifying pictures. Jonny and Benton facing a firing squad. Jonny being forced to watch while Bandit was killed. Benton being forced to watch while Jonny was killed. Jonny being tortured to force his father to do something. It just went on and on.

He had to find them. He had to find them before it was too late.

* * *

Jonny woke up to the sound of Bandit growling. He looked up and saw Patricia standing nearby with a plate. "Aw, hush up, Bandit. It's just a minion."

Bandit looked up at him, cocking an ear. Then he started barking at Patricia so intensely that he started bouncing backwards on the bed. Jonny groaned. "Quiet, Bandit. My head hurts." Bandit stopped barking abruptly and trotted up to him and started licking his face. "What do you want?" he asked Patricia.

"I brought you some fresh dinner, and some food and water for your dog."

"I'm not hungry," Jonny said, glaring up at her. His head hurt and he felt really hot. "Why don't you go away and leave me alone?"

She put the plate down, and he noticed that the other two plates were gone. _When did she do that?_ "Your father would want you to eat."

"Leave my father out of this!" he growled, rolling over to sit up. His leg ached.

"You seem kind of pale," she said, leaning forward to feel his forehead. He leaned back and Bandit started barking again. She persevered against both their objections and managed to put the back of her hand against his cheek. He shoved her away, but she said, "You're so cold."

"So what?" he said. "It's not like you care or anything." He blinked, feeling kind of dizzy.

"Actually, I do care. We need to get you into bed, young man." She looked down at his bandage, which he had been lying on, and her lips tightened. "But first I need to clean up that leg."

Jonny looked down and saw Bandit sniffing a dark brownish red stain on the bed. "I think I messed up the bedspread," he said.

Her eyes widened and she said, "I'll be back in a moment. Don't move."

He watched her go, and then peeled back the bandage. No wonder his leg hurt. Three of the stitches had popped out. He touched them curiously, but pulled his hand back quickly. They were still attached on one side, but they'd ripped through the skin on the other side, and blood was oozing from that as well as the original injury.

Bandit came up close to his leg to sniff it, but Jonny grabbed him and held him in his arms. At first the little dog squirmed, but then he quieted and leaned against him. Jonny wanted to go home, but only if Bandit and his dad went with him. These people were complete wackos.

Patricia came back with Dr. Pascale close behind her. The doctor took a look at Jonny's leg, and said, "What have we been doing, young man?"

Jonny glared up at her. "I don't know what you've been doing, but I've been getting dragged around by Mr. Crandall," he said.

"Oh, I see," she said calmly. "Let's get that stitched up again."

"Why bother?" Jonny demanded. "He'll just do it again."

Bandit started growling as Dr. Pascale reached toward him to shift him into a better position to work on him in. "Patricia, please take the dog into the bathroom and shut him in."

"I wouldn't, not unless you want to get bitten," Jonny said as Patricia reached out. Dr. Pascale backed up as he slid off the bed and limped over to the bathroom door. His legs felt shaky, and his headache doubled when he stood up, but he didn't want either of them touching Bandit if he could help it. "I'm sorry, boy," he said as he put him down in the bathroom and shut the door. The little dog started barking loudly. Jonny stood back up straight, but the room seemed to be at an odd angle.

Patricia came up and put an arm around his shoulder to help him back over to the bed. He wanted to pull away, but he didn't have the energy. That thought alarmed him. Why did he feel so awful? Patricia got him sitting on the bed and Dr. Pascale said, "We've got to get him to the infirmary. Go get the wheelchair."

"Yes, doctor," Patricia said and hurried out.

Jonny glared at the doctor. "Why did you want to shut Bandit up if you were going to take me out of here?"

"I don't want him loose in the facility," she said. "Why haven't you eaten your dinner?"

"I'm not hungry," he said.

"You didn't eat your lunch. You need food to heal."

Jonny just sat there. His leg hurt, his head hurt, and he was feeling nauseated again. Bandit was digging at the bottom of the door, trying to get out. Jonny sighed. Why couldn't they just let him sleep? Dr. Pascale squatted down in front of him and grabbed his chin, looking into his eyes. "Stick your tongue out, boy," she said. He ignored her. She picked up his hand and looked at his fingernails. "What exactly happened?" He didn't say anything.

Patricia came in the door with the wheelchair and they lifted him into it despite his protests that he didn't want to go anywhere. Dr. Pascale flipped the covers back on the bed and let out a very rude word. The stain under the bedspread was wider. Jonny wondered how long he'd been bleeding, but before he got much farther than that thought, they started moving rapidly back to the infirmary.

Things got very dreamy after that for a while, and Jonny wasn't sure if he fell asleep or what. He dimly heard Dr. Pascale asking hurried questions about the treatment he'd received at the house. Then things got really fuzzy, and he wondered if he was going to die.

* * *

Benton had just picked up the file on the nerve gas project when the door opened again. He looked up at the clock. It was closing fast on eleven.

"Sir, Dr. Pascale wants to speak with you," Marcus said. "Urgently."

Crandall looked irritated, but he stood up and went out. Benton tried to tell himself that what the doctor wanted to talk to him about didn't have to be about Jonny. Crandall slammed the door hard enough that it shivered. The other guard had stepped into the restroom a few minutes before, so Benton got up and listened at the door.

"Mr. Crandall, I want you to tell me exactly what you did to that boy to persuade his father to behave," the doctor said in an irate voice.

"Is that all you want?" Crandall demanded. "This can wait for me to finish talking to the boy's father."

"No, it can't."

"I just brought him in here. That's all."

"No, it's not."

"Well, I dug into his stitches a little to make sure he understood the situation fully." Benton ground his teeth. "I couldn't have hurt him that much, he managed to walk in here and out again."

"You think not?" she snapped. "Let me let you in on a little secret, Crandall, the boy will be no good as a hostage if he's dead." Benton felt himself stop breathing.

"What are you talking about?"

"You caused three stitches to pop out, further tearing the skin and reopening part of the wound. He lay there on the bed bleeding. If Patricia hadn't insisted on trying to get him to eat his dinner, he might have bled to death before morning. I've had to give him a transfusion, rather thoroughly depleting my store of AB negative blood."

"I didn't know he was bleeding."

"Well, don't touch his leg again, Crandall."

"You have no right -"

"The Corporate Handbook states clearly that I am in charge if something like this comes up. I can have you removed from this project altogether. For the good of the company." Corporate handbook? Benton thought incredulously.

He opened the door and took two steps into the room. Marcus raised the rifle, so he stopped, but he looked back and forth between the two, Crandall and Pascale. "What does your corporate handbook tell you to do if you kill my son?"

Crandall raised an eyebrow. "Either let you go, kill you, or obtain a new hostage. I already have people in place near the Indian boy's camp."


	6. Benton's Sons

Benton stiffened. Hadji? Lord, no! "I want to see Jonny."

"Of course you do," Dr. Pascale said. "And I think it's a good idea. Come along, Dr. Quest."

"We have not finished our conversation," Crandall said.

"For now you have," Dr. Pascale snapped. "I believe the boy will be better off with his father nearby. And you know perfectly well that I have the authority to order it."

Benton didn't like the mask of rage that appeared on Crandall's face, and the speed with which the man suppressed it was equally alarming. "Very well," he said shortly. "Dr. Quest, we will continue this in the morning." With that he stalked out, leaving Benton alone with Dr. Pascale. Marcus followed him out. Benton glanced behind him. The other guard had come out of the bathroom and stood behind him.

Dr. Pascale said, "Follow me, Dr. Quest."

They walked swiftly through the maze of corridors back to the infirmary, where Benton was concerned to see Jonny lying on a bed with an IV drip. Rushing over to his side, he picked up one of his son's hands. "How much blood did he lose?" he asked softly.

"He absorbed two liters very easily, and that brought his blood pressure up to normal."

"Have you replaced the popped stitches?"

"Yes. He will recover and be none the worse for wear. Don't worry. But he was asking for you when he was awake earlier, and I think he'd rest easier if he knew you were in the room."

Benton studied the woman curiously for a moment. "Why do you care? Surely you know why he's here."

"Of course, Dr. Quest, but we don't kill or maim our hostages. No blood is supposed to be drawn, certainly not this early in the proceedings, and not when you're cooperating." Benton took a deep breath, contemplating that calm statement. "I will put Crandall on report for this outrageous behavior. It is not acceptable."

Benton just looked down at Jonny's face. "Has he eaten yet?"

"That's a sucrose drip and Patricia got some soup into him while I was gone, right Patricia?"

"Yes, doctor," the young woman said. "Now that you're back, I'd better go let the dog out of the bathroom, so he can get to his food and water."

Pascale nodded, waving her away, and Benton was glad to find that someone was thinking of the dog. He certainly wasn't, not with Jonny in this state. The boy started shaking his head and moaning in his sleep. Benton leaned down. "It's okay, Jonny, Dad's here."

Jonny opened his eyes. "Am I dying?" he asked.

"No, you're not going to die, Jonny!" Benton exclaimed. "Dr. Pascale says you're going to be fine."

"What's she know?" Jonny said weakly. "She's just a minion."

"Yes, but I think she's a minion with a medical degree." He heard the doctor making an impatient noise behind him, but he ignored her. "I'm going to sleep on this bed right here," he added, pointing to the other bed in the room.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" Jonny asked.

Benton looked over at Dr. Pascale who shrugged. "Once the boy's out of danger, my authority lessens considerably."

"And in the morning. . .?"

"He'll be out of danger. I don't expect there to be any complications."

"I'll try, Jonny," Benton said to his son. "But I can't promise."

"Crandall's an asshole," Jonny said.

"Language, Jonny."

"Okay. Crandall's a sadistic thug."

"Yes, that's true. Good night, Jonny." He stood watching as his son fell asleep, then he sat on the other bed. He wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep, but if he was supposed to meet with Crandall again tomorrow morning, he'd have to be on his toes.

He lay back and stared at the ceiling, counting the dots in the acoustical tiles till he fell asleep.

* * *

Race jogged down the stairs to the ground floor of the motel taking them two at a time. He'd gotten some sleep, but it hadn't been easy with the images that kept cascading through his mind. Corvin had returned to Washington late after abjuring him not to anybody off. By anybody Race assumed he meant Lt. McCormick.

She was waiting for him in front of the office. "Good morning, Agent Bannon," she said. "Headquarters just called. They ran the fingerprints we found on the boat and came up dry. There were prints from Dr. Quest and Jonny, and both of the Browns, but the rest of them aren't in the system." She gave him a wry grin. "Your Dr. Quest is an ingenious man. There were full handprints of both his and the boy's on the wall in that cabin."

Race nodded. "Benton's always been thorough." He shook his head and slammed his fist into his hand. "Damn it! We're getting nowhere!" His cell phone rang and he picked it up. "Bannon," he said curtly.

"Race, we have a problem," said Corvin's voice. "I just got a call from Hadji's camp. He's disappeared."

"Hell's bells!" Race roared.

"Calm down. They don't think he was kidnapped. For one thing, he left a note saying that he was going home."

"What is it?" Lt. McCormick asked. Race waved at her to shut up because Phil was still talking.

"He also appears to have borrowed a vehicle –"

"Wait, wait, Corvin. If Hadji's off on his own, then you'd better clear this line. This is the number he'll try to reach me at." Ignoring Corvin's splutters, he shut off his phone. "Do you have a cell phone, Lieutenant?" Wordlessly she drew it out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him. "Does it reach into the States?"

"It should," she replied.

He dialed Corvin's number and held the phone away from his ear while the director favored him with scathing commentary. "Phil," he said finally cutting into the stream. "I had to hang up. If Hadji tries to call, I don't want him getting a busy signal."

Phil was silent for a moment. "Right. What's this number?" He handed the phone over to Lt. McCormick and she passed along the information then handed it back. "Race, Hadji took a moped from the camp site. He'll be headed back to Maine. I've got guards stationed there since the house security is non functional, but do you have any way to contact him?"

"I can try his cellular, but there's no guarantee that he'll have it on."

"Well, do it, Race."

Grimacing, he hung up on Phil again and dialed Hadji's number quickly. He heard Hadji's voice, but the instant of hope was damped immediately, it was his voice mail. "Hadji is probably off saving the world right now, so please leave a message and he will call you back as soon as it is feasible."

"Hadji, this is Race. Call me on my cell phone as soon as you get this message. I'm not in Maine and the phones there aren't working." He hit the end button on Diana's phone and pursed his lips. He called Phil back. "I got his voice mail," he said to Phil. "I don't know how soon he'll check it, or even if he has the phone with him. Hadji's usually pretty on the ball, so I would think so."

"Keep me informed," Phil said. "I've got people going over satellite footage in the area. The electric clocks in the compound gave us a pretty clear idea of when the attack took place, so we're hoping to get a line on them that way."

"Let me know if you find anything. Once I've found Hadji, I'm going to start looking to see where some of our old friends are. I take it there were no demands received overnight."

"No." Phil sounded tired. "Though word from our informants is that Zin is very annoyed with us for losing his nemesis. He seems to think it's his job to deal with Benton. My concern is that he's going to start looking for him himself."

"That sounds like Zin, all right."

"Let me know if you hear from Hadji. I'm going to skin that boy alive if he gets himself caught."

Race gulped. "Corvin, I've had a horror show playing in my head all night. Please don't help." With that, he hung up the phone and turned to Lt. McCormick. "I'd better head back to Maine. Benton's other son has run away from his camp."

Her jaw dropped. "But why? How old is he?"

"He's fourteen. And he wants to help find Benton and Jonny." Race shook his head. "I should have gone and gotten him. After the number of times those boys stowed away or snuck after us on missions I should have known better."

"So it's true? Dr. Quest's children have been involved in his operations?"

Race raised an eyebrow at the understatement. "I'm not sure 'involved' is the right word. Half the time we find out there is an operation because one of the boys stumbles on it and gets hurt or kidnapped or threatened or something." He sighed. "You might as well call us 'Team Quest' and throw my daughter in with the boys. Thank God she's in Argentina with her mother right now or she'd be trying to put her oar in, too."

"So you're heading back to the States?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'd better see if I can find a commercial flight."

"I could requisition a plane from headquarters," she suggested. "Then we wouldn't be tied to airline time tables."

"We? Are you coming?"

"I was informed, last night, that I was to give you whatever help you needed, up to and including hopping on a rocket for a moon shot."

"We don't keep those in Maine," he said dryly.

"Glad to hear it. I didn't pack my vacuum suit." She put in a call to her headquarters and they were soon on their way to another airstrip to pick up the plane. Once they were in the air, she said, "What does your wife do in Argentina?"

"My ex-wife," he said. "Estella is an archeologist. Don't ask me to explain what she does, I couldn't."

"How old is your daughter?"

"Jessie? She's thirteen, smack dab between the boys and are she and Jonny ever competitive." He fell silent suddenly, trying not to imagine how Jessie would react if Jonny was dead.

"We'll find them, Race."

"We'd better."

* * *

Benton woke up and blinked at the ceiling, feeling disoriented. He sat up in the dim infirmary and got out of bed to check on Jonny. He was sleeping peacefully, still breathing and his pulse seemed normal. Once he was reassured on that point, Benton wondered where the guards were. If he could find a phone with an outside line, or a computer that had access to the internet, he might be able to get a message to Race.

He crept to the door of the room and peered out. No one was in sight, but he could see the faint glow of a monitor about fifteen feet away. Walking very quietly, wishing he had Race's skill at this moment, he crossed to the computer. Working swiftly, hoping not to be caught in the middle of this endeavor, he started checking through the computer's directories, looking for a link to the internet. While he worked, he glanced around for a phone.

A phone seemed a little risky though. It was a good bet that calls to numbers outside this complex were monitored in some way, or they might even go through a live operator. If these people had a corporate handbook that covered what methods of torture were permitted on young boys, their security had to be pretty tight. It was possible, however, that they hadn't plugged every hole in their internet access.

Footsteps in a nearby room made him clench his teeth. He returned the computer to the screen he'd found it on and scurried back to his bed, making as little noise as possible. A few moments later, Dr. Pascale walked into the room and checked Jonny's vitals, making notes on his chart. This is one hell of an organization, he thought as the doctor left again. Keep the kid healthy so he can be of further use as a hostage. Unfortunately, she didn't leave the infirmary this time, but went out and sat down at the computer after turning on the lights.

The adrenalin was coursing through him after that fruitless attempt at communication, and he began to hope that they hadn't installed any security systems on the computer. If they had some way to track every keystroke, he was due for an irate visit from Crandall. Or possibly Jonny is . . . Benton's whole body tensed as he considered that possibility. That idiot had nearly killed his son through carelessness. God knew what he'd do to him on purpose.

After a while, he abandoned the attempt to sleep and rolled over, watching Jonny's chest go up and down. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Nearly six in the morning. No wonder he couldn't get back to sleep. He sat up and tried to pull his thoughts together. There was no knowing when Crandall would show up for the rest of his interrupted conversation.

Patricia walked in and saw him sitting up. "Are you ready for some breakfast, Dr. Quest?" she asked.

He sighed. "I guess so."

She went to Jonny's side and checked on his IV. "He's doing fine, sir. If he eats properly this morning, we should be able to discontinue the IV."

That would be a blessing. An IV would be difficult to drag along on an escape. Benton stood and stretched, then went around to look at Jonny. Patricia turned on the light as she left, and Benton gazed down at his son's face. His color was better this morning, that was certain. He pulled up a chair and sat down at Jonny's bedside, wanting to be nearby when the boy woke up. Assuming Crandall would permit it. He tamped down on the fury that rose at that thought. There will be plenty of time for being angry when we're safe, he told himself. Just now, he had to keep a cool head.

Patricia came back in carrying a tray with a glass of orange juice, a bowl of cut fruit, a bagel and cream cheese. He took it and ate automatically, barely tasting the food.

Jonny slept on, unaware of his scrutiny. He'd probably be desperately embarrassed if he woke up to see his father gazing at him this way. Benton snorted. His two boys were enough to keep any father in antacids, though Hadji he could at least count on to be polite. Jonny had difficulty obeying one of their primary rules about these sorts of situations. Don't antagonize the villain.

He put the tray aside when it was empty and wished Jonny would wake up. He wanted to see his son's eyes alert and aware of what was going on around him before he had to leave. But after his experiences of the day before, Jonny needed his rest.

Benton stood and started pacing. Crandall was going to expect him to describe his plans for the nerve gas project. The trouble was, he couldn't think past Jonny at the moment. He was still trying to get his thoughts organized when a sleepy voice from the bed made him stop abruptly.

"Dad? You're making me dizzy," Jonny complained, sitting up. "What's this?" he asked, looking down at the IV sticking out of his arm.

"It's an IV, Jonny. Don't worry about it."

"What happened? I know some of my stitches ripped out." Jonny looked puzzled.

"Yes. Three of your stitches popped and you nearly bled to death." He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him and glanced back to see Patricia looking startled. Looking back at Jonny, he saw that the boy's eyes were wide and frightened. "You need to be careful, Jonny. Don't make that man angry. He's dangerous and none too bright. And in the future, if you're in pain or you feel bad, you need to tell someone. These people may be lunatics but they clearly don't want you to die." Yet, he added internally, but didn't say aloud.

"I really almost died?"

"If someone hadn't realized that you were bleeding, you might have." He gripped Jonny's hand in his very tightly. "Listen to me, Jonny, take very good care of yourself and follow rule number one. Don't antagonize anybody."

Jonny nodded. "Right, Dad."

Patricia came forward hesitantly. "Are you ready for breakfast?" she asked Jonny.

"Sure," he said. Patricia left the room again.

Benton leaned down and said, "Please, Jonny, don't make things any harder for me." Jonny gulped and nodded. "If he hurts you I'm likely to lose my temper and then we'll really be in trouble."

"What's he want you to do, Dad?"

"Don't worry about it, Jonny. Race will find us and everything will be okay."

* * *

His father was looking at him earnestly, and Jonny knew that the empty feeling in his stomach had nothing to do with food. Dad wasn't actually sure that Race would find them. He could tell. He felt tears well up in his eyes and bit his lip trying to contain them.

"Jonny, we'll be all right," his father said, pulling him into his arms. That broke the last of his defenses, and Jonny started crying.

Patricia came in with a tray of food and Jonny glared at her. He didn't want her coming and seeing him like this. Rotten deluded minion. He turned his head away.

"What's wrong?" she exclaimed. "Are you in pain?"

Jonny turned back and glared at her again. "What do you think's wrong?"

She put the tray down on the other bed and came over to stand by him. "It's all right, Jonny. You'll like it here once things are calmer. My family came into the corporation when I was five. It just takes some time to adjust."

"Were you kidnapped?" his dad asked her, and Jonny's eyes shot to her face to see her reaction.

Her eyes widened and she said, "We were recruited."

His father let out a sardonic sigh. "Translation: you were kidnapped."

"Did anyone ever hurt you?" Jonny demanded.

She shook her head, not looking at Dr. Quest. "My parents cooperated."

"I was cooperating," his father said repressively.

"I don't know – this isn't how it's supposed to work," she said.

"What happened to your parents?" Jonny asked.

"They both worked at the main facility until my father died of liver cancer. My mother retired and lives in the States."

"They let her leave?" Jonny asked incredulously.

"Of course." Patricia shrugged. "She lives in Florida on their pension."

"And the corporation still has you," his father said. Jonny looked up at him curiously. His father had an odd, shuttered look on his face.

"Well, I still work for them," she said reasonably.

"Do you have any siblings?" his father asked.

A brief unhappiness crossed her face. "My older sister, Pamela, died when I was little. My parents never had any other children."

"How did she die?" Jonny asked curiously.

"I think she was sick. I remember visiting her in an infirmary." There was a distant look in her eyes, and Jonny made a sudden, alarming connection.

"They killed her, didn't they?" Jonny blurted.

"Of course not!" Patricia exclaimed, looking down at him. "What an imagination you have. She was sick for weeks."

Jonny felt vague stirrings of panic. "Dad, they don't have Hadji, do they?"

"No, Jonny, they don't have Hadji."

"Are you sure?"

His father caught his chin in his hand. "They'd tell me if they had him. There wouldn't be any point otherwise."

"Would you tell me?"

"Of course I would. Don't worry, Jonny. They aren't going to take Hadji." Jonny wondered why his father was so sure. Had Crandall said something about Hadji?

Before he could ask, though, Dr. Pascale came in and started checking him over. When she saw he hadn't eaten his breakfast yet, she raised an eyebrow. "You need to eat, young man. You can't begin healing properly until you eat."

His father squeezed his shoulders. "And you can't get that IV out until you're feeling better." Jonny caught the underlying meaning in that right away. He reached out and grabbed the bowl of fruit and started eating immediately.

Jonny's view of the doorway was obscured by the adults gathered around him, but he saw his father stiffen and slowly straighten before he heard the voice.

"Dr. Quest, Mr. Crandall is ready for you." It was Marcus, the guard from last night. Jonny froze. "This way."

Giving him a last squeeze, Jonny's father walked away from him, leaving him with Patricia and Dr. Pascale. Jonny took a deep breath and tried not to feel abandoned. His father couldn't argue, couldn't insist on staying. He kept eating the fruit, determined to get better as soon as possible. He wished he hadn't been so stupid as to fall off the wall in the first place.

* * *

They landed at the airstrip, where Corvin's guards had set up some lights hooked to a diesel generator. _Benton will love that,_ Race reflected. The light from the lighthouse was shining once more, and Race could see cables stretched along the cliffs. He wondered how far afield they'd had to go to get to good wires.

As they disembarked from the plane, a man Race knew vaguely, Agent Saddler, he thought, came up and said, "The older boy has arrived. He's up in the house."

Race took off running for the house, hoping to reach Hadji before he got to the kitchen. He wanted to be annoyed with Corvin's men for letting the boy go inside, but Hadji was as stubborn as the rest of them. He would have sneaked in if they'd tried to stop him. For all he knew, that was what had happened.

He swung around the doorframe into the open door to the kitchen and stopped dead. Hadji was staring at the blood on the table and the floor. He turned to see Race in the doorway. "Whose blood is it, Race?"

From his expression, Race could tell that Hadji was hoping it was one of the kidnappers, and Race could have kicked himself for not being more explicit when he'd spoken to him. "It's – It's Jonny's, Hadji."

The boy's eyes widened, and he looked again at the stains. "Is he alive?"

"We think so," Race said. "They stitched his wound, and we found evidence of his presence on the boat that took them away. His and Dr. Quest's."

"Do we have any idea who took them?"

"I'm afraid not."

Hadji broke from his stunned immobility and slammed into Race, giving him a fierce hug.


	7. Race Bannon

Hadji broke from his stunned immobility and slammed into Race, giving him a fierce hug. "If I had been here instead of at camp, perhaps –"

"Perhaps they would have taken you, too," Race said gently. "I think they waited until the compound was all but empty to make their move, Hadji. You know as well as I do that determined kidnapper will find or make his opportunity."

Hadji pulled away and nodded, wiping away tears. "What is the plan? What are we doing next?" He looked over Race's shoulder. "And who is that?"

"Ah, Lt. McCormick, this is Hadji Singh. Hadji, this is –"

"Call me Diana, both of you. All this formality takes too much time."

"Fine, then call me Race. I never know who people are talking to when they say 'Agent Bannon' any more." He glanced over at the blood. Diana, seeing it, swallowed convulsively. "Let's go somewhere else to talk, okay?" he suggested.

"Perhaps the greenhouse," Hadji said, naming a room that was off on the other side of the building and was ordinarily full of life. Race agreed and they went outside to go around the house rather than walking through the gloominess of the unlit building. "Did they knock out IRIS with an EM pulse?" Hadji asked.

"Yup."

"Then the boat they left in must have been diesel. Where did you find it?"

"A boat rental yard in Nova Scotia."

Hadji nodded thoughtfully. "Then you must have documents showing pictures and identification numbers."

Race raised an eyebrow. "The minute we can get you near a computer, I'll give you the file."

"So what is the plan?" Hadji asked again as they entered the green house. Most of the plants were looking rather withered since the automatic watering systems were run by electricity. Hadji let out a startled exclamation and reached out to turn the water on by hand. A bit of water came out at first, but it slowed to a trickle almost immediately.

"The water pumps run by electricity, too, Hadji," Race said, putting an arm around his shoulder. "There are more important things to worry about now," he added.

"Of course. Perhaps this isn't the best place to sit either, though," he said thoughtfully.

"We should probably head out," Diana said. "Let Hadji pack some things, and we'll get him to a safe house."

"No!" Hadji said sharply. "I will be coming with you."

Race drew in a deep breath and sighed. "Yes, you will."

"Race, he's fourteen years old!" she said. "You can't let him –"

"He'd only run away again, and then I wouldn't know where he was." Hadji nodded helpfully. Race rolled his eyes but didn't remove his arm from the boy's shoulders. "He's safer with me. Besides, he can be useful to have around on occasion."

"Agent Bannon?"

Race turned to see Agent Saddler in the doorway. "Yes?"

"There's an SUV approaching the gates, sir. We're not sure who it is. Please stay in the house until we can ascertain if there's any threat."

Race collared Hadji who had tried to slip away. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

The boy stopped, turning to face him with wide eyes. "I forgot," he said ruefully. "I was going to go check the cameras."

"Well, kid, Diana has one thing right. I'd bet you didn't bring anything from camp."

"I did not dare," Hadji agreed. "I did not think I could slip away unnoticed with a large pack strapped to my back."

They headed upstairs to Hadji's room, Race steering him away from Jonny's as they went past. "How did Jonny get injured, Race? Do you know?"

"It looks like he fell off the side of the house."

"He would not fall. He has made that climb many times before."

"No doubt," Race said dryly.

Hadji started gathering things up. Then he stopped and turned. "I almost forgot. I was followed from the camp."

"What?" Race exclaimed. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. There were four vehicles. One of them was an SUV," he added thoughtfully. "A Ford Excursion."

"Hell's bells!"

"I got some of their license plate numbers. They may still be nearby, watching the perimeter," he added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a strip of paper that looked rather like a receipt from a gas station. "I committed them to memory, but I thought, in case all you found was my body or my clothing, it would be best if I had written them down as well."

"My God," Diana said in an appalled undertone.

Hadji tilted his head in her direction. "It is best to think of all eventualities, do you not think?"

Diana looked at Race with an incredulous look, but he was already on the phone to Corvin. "Yes, Race?"

"Hadji made it back to the house all right," Race started.

"I've had a report from Saddler."

"He says he was followed all the way home. Here are the plate numbers of the vehicles, and their makes and models." He read off the list Hadji had given him. "Not sure who you have in the field right now, but they have a better chance of catching someone if we don't look like we're alert to watchers."

"Right. I'll get on it."

"Let me know what you find."

"What are you going to do with Hadji, Race?"

"Take him with me, what else?"

"Good. The last time we tried to keep those two boys in a safe house, two of my agents had nervous breakdowns."

"Breakdowns, Corvin? Mine's on its way."

"Just stave it off until Benton's back, will you?"

"Right."

When he hung up he saw that Hadji had moved across the room, packing his street clothes. Race remembered that he'd mostly taken his traditional clothing to camp. Diana was still staring at the boy in utter astonishment. Race shrugged. "These kids have led unusual lives. Hadji spent his formative years on the streets of Calcutta."

"I see," she said. "It's just difficult – I have two kids of my own, and I don't like seeing one talk so calmly about you finding his dead body."

"Me either, really, but we've been in some tight spots and always come out of them." He pursed his lips. "I don't like to think what we'll do if either of them comes back in a box."

"Forgive me for being blunt, but if Dr. Quest is – has passed on, won't that be up to the boys' guardian?"

Race shrugged again. "That's me."

"But you're their bodyguard."

"It's more than that, these days, Diana," Race said, watching Hadji gather up some CD-Roms of programs he and Dr. Quest had developed to facilitate searches. "I've been with this family since Jonny was six years old, and I came a few weeks after he lost his mother. Benton was a wreck, and Jonny was devastated. I had to hold them both together."

"I see."

"Ordinarily, agents like me are transferred after a few years, so we don't get attached, but Jonny needed consistency, so the decision was made that I would stay." He glanced back over at Hadji who was zipping up his bag. "Hadji's been with us since he was nine."

They heard running footsteps on the stairs, and, pulling his gun, Race shoved Diana aside and leaned around the doorframe. A red-haired comet slammed into him and he lowered his gun immediately. "Ponchita?" he said incredulously.

"Hi, Dad!" she said, leaning back to look into his face. "Surprised to see me?" she asked. He tucked his automatic back into the holster in the back of his pants and put his arms around her.

"You could say that, yes." He looked up and saw another unexpected face. "Estella?"

"Hello, Race," she said, smiling apologetically.

"I thought you were going to keep her in the wilds of Argentina?" Race exclaimed. "What happened?"

Estella looked toward heaven then said, "I changed my mind. She made some very compelling arguments."

"What could possibly be that compelling, Estella?" he demanded.

"I caught her stealing a canoe. Her plan was to hop a plane in Buenos Aires."

"How could she possibly –"

"She borrowed my credit card and bought a ticket on the internet."

Race gaped at his daughter who grinned unrepentantly at him. "Did I beat Hadji here?" she asked.

"Nope," said Hadji, walking up to the door. "Did you bring your laptop?"

"Of course."

"If you're ready, Hadji, we'd better get going," Race said. "We'll need to get a new laptop for you and get back to Canada in case there's word."

"I think Jessie needs to see the kitchen, Race."

"I don't think that's necessary, Hadji," Race said, reaching out for them, but they ran past. "Damn. Come on – oh, Estella, this is Diana – Lt. McCormick." Estella raised her eyebrow in a familiar irritating manner and smiled at Diana, offering her hand.

"Lt. McCormick."

"I'm sorry, I –"

"I'm Dr. Velasquez," Estella said sweetly.

Diana seemed to catch some of the undercurrent. She gave Race an uncomfortable look and said, "I'd better call my husband. He likes me to touch base when I can." She sidled between them and went downstairs.

"Married ones, now, eh, Race?" Estella said in a barbed tone.

"Hell's bells, Estella!" Race exploded. "Do you really think I'm fooling around with Jonny and Benton God knows where? She's my Canadian liaison, and she probably thinks we're all crazy now." He turned and started to go downstairs, but Estella caught his arm.

"I'm sorry, Race. I'm just – there was another reason I brought her home."

Something in her expression made Race stop. "What?"

"There were people hanging around, strange people. We get tourists every now and then, but these didn't feel like tourists."

Race gritted his teeth. "Damn. I thought you didn't need guards."

Estella let out an frustrated sigh. "Well, I was wrong. When I realized we were being watched, I figured it would be better to be near you and your arsenal. And then Jessie tried to sneak off, nearly giving me a heart attack."

"Well, she is our daughter."

"Don't I know it." She looked up at him, lifting a concerned eyebrow. "Really, Race, you look terrible. Why didn't you want the kids to go down to the kitchen?"

"I didn't tell you everything on the phone." Race breathed in deeply. "Jonny was hurt when they took them. If Jessie's going to see it, you'd better see it too."

"You're scaring me, Race."

"Better you be scared than dead," Race said. "That's probably why Hadji wanted Jessie to see. She can be a little reckless."

They were quiet the rest of the way downstairs. Diana was outside the front door, talking quietly on her cell phone, but Race could hear her saying, "Mama misses you too, honey, but I have to work."

They walked across the front room just in time for Jessie to emerge from the kitchen door, looking green. She saw Race and ran over to him. "Whose blood is that?" she demanded.

"Jonny's," Race said, putting his arms around her.

"I feel sick," she said quietly.

"I know, Ponchita. I did, too," he said, watching Estella go into the kitchen. She came back out with a greenish look on her face, followed by Hadji.

"We have traced the boat that took them away. That's part of why we need to go to Canada."

"Agent Bannon?" He looked up to see Diana standing in the doorway with an extremely serious expression. "Can I speak with you outside?"

"Sure." He glanced over a Estella. "Stell, can you keep an eye on the sprats?"

"Dad!" Jessie exclaimed. Hadji just raised an eyebrow at the irreverent name. Estella waved him out. He followed Diana outside.

"What did you want to talk about?" Race asked.

"You're letting civilians in on the details of an investigation in progress," she said. "I don't imagine that's standard procedure, even in I-1." Race opened his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. "They're children. How could you even think of involving them in something this dangerous?"

"I don't think you understand, Diana. They're involved already. Folks have been watching them. I don't think you were there when Estella told me, but they were being watched on the dig. I can't think of anyplace safer than where I can see them."

"This is not a normal sort of investigation –" she started.

"And I'm not a normal sort of agent and those aren't normal kids. And it's a good thing, too, because that may be the only thing that gets them out of this alive. Especially Jonny. Unless, of course, he says something stupid and winds up –" Race forced himself to stop before he articulated some of the images he had in his mind. "Look, I know you don't understand, but if I called Corvin right now and told him the situation, he wouldn't have a problem with it."

"Fine," she said. "Prove it."

Thus challenged, he pulled out his phone. "I should report in, anyway," he said, calmly dialing Phil's number.

"Corvin."

"Phil, new development. Thugs were apparently watching Jessie and Estella at the dig in Argentina."

"Hell, do I have to send agents there?"

"No, because they came here. They showed up about twenty minutes after we did."

"Do you want a safe house for them?" Phil asked.

"No, I thought I'd get them to help with the investigation."

"That's a good notion," Phil said. "In that case, may I speak to Jessie?"

"Sure." He held the phone out away from his face. "Ponchita!"

Jessie came running out of the house. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Corvin wants to talk to you," he said, handing her the phone.

Diana watched in mystification as Jessie listened, then started nodding. "Hello, Mr. Corvin. . . . Yes, I'm real worried. . . . Uh huh . . . uh huh . . . yeah . . . yes, he can . . . no, but Dad said something about getting another one . . . it's not a problem . . . uh huh . . . Mom's fine. Okay, did you need to talk to my dad again? . . . No? . . . Okay, bye." She hung up then handed him back the phone.

"What was that about?"

Jessie shrugged. "He wants me to scan all the identification records you have into my computer and start checking through all the main databases again, this time looking for evidence of hacking. He thinks maybe they were hacked in to begin with."

"Can you do that?" Race asked, knitting his eyebrows.

"Oh, with some of the programs I've worked out with Hadji and Dr. Quest, it'll be dead easy. But it would go faster if he had a laptop, too."

"Naturally. We'll get one when we land in Canada. Can you really hack into each of those databases?"

She let out a very teen-aged sigh. "No, Dad. I call Jose at headquarters when I need in and he arranges clearance."

"I see."

"I don't know who will get us clearances for the Canadian databases, but Jose can figure it out. He always does."

"Ponchita, go get Hadji and your mother, would you?"

"Sure, Dad. This'll be cool. I'll get to rescue Jonny, and he'll have to eat crow!"

Race let out a sigh. All that adult competence followed by a moment of pure kid. After Jessie disappeared inside, he looked at Diana. "Now do you see what I mean?"

"Did Director Corvin really just give a thirteen-year-old girl an assignment?"

"Sounded like it was a joint assignment with Hadji, but yes. Much as it scares me to admit it, she's a prodigy with computers, and Phil knows it. All three of them are prodigies in one way or another. It's kind of terrifying when they're all together."

Diana was still shaking her head when they all came out. Estella and Jessie went over to get their luggage out of the SUV while Race made arrangements to have one of Corvin's men return it to the place where Estella had rented it. Hadji made straight for the plane, and, after a moment, Diana followed him.

* * *

"Well, Dr. Quest," Crandall said. "You have made a perfectly adequate presentation."

Benton made a supreme effort to look neutral rather than irritated. This man was walking a fine line between sense and sadism.

"Now, if you would please, tell me something about Race Bannon."

Benton stiffened. "I beg your pardon?" he asked. _What in the hell . . ._

Crandall leaned forward, fire glinting in his eyes. "I asked you a question, Dr. Quest. Was it difficult to understand? I need information regarding Race Bannon."

"What information?" Benton asked. "Why?"

"What are his skills? What is his background? I'm sure you can imagine the sorts of information that would interest me, Dr. Quest."

Where is this leading?

_"I could imagine more clearly if I knew why you need the information."_

"Dr. Quest, are you declining to cooperate?"

Benton felt a chill start in his stomach and travel out to the farthest extremities of his body. What would Race want him to do? And could Benton do it? Race wouldn't want Jonny hurt, he knew that for certain, but did he dare tell Crandall anything? It might compromise Race's ability to find them.

Crandall stood up and walked to the door. Opening it, he said, "Fetch the boy."

Benton stood up, reaching out towards him. "No!"

The look the man turned on him was full of malevolence. "Dr. Quest, it is clear that you need to be motivated. Please sit down."

Benton sat. Race would be here any time now, surely. They'd been here for two nights, now. Race would find them. He'd always found them so much faster before.

Marcus came in with Jonny, who looked angry and alarmed.

"I'll tell you what you want to know, Crandall."

"It's too late for that, Dr. Quest. You've earned this punishment." Jonny's eyes widened as Crandall walked toward him, and he started to back away. He backhanded Jonny across the face, causing him to stumble backwards, but Marcus caught him and held him upright.

Benton surged to his feet, but the other guard was suddenly on top of him, shoving him back down and putting the muzzle of the gun against his chest.

Crandall turned back to face him. "Well, Dr. Quest, are you going to cooperate?" Jonny stood staring open-mouthed at Crandall. Marcus was now holding him by one arm. There was a little trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. He lifted a hand to it and winced.

Benton cleared his throat. "He was a Navy Seal," he said. "He transferred to I-1, I'm not sure how long ago. I don't know what he did before he came to me. They sent him because they thought he'd be good with Jonny."

"Dad!" Jonny exclaimed. "Don't tell them anything!"

Crandall turned and raised his hand again. "Jonny, be quiet," Benton said sharply. Jonny subsided, looking scared.

The man turned back to him, smiling tightly. "Do go on, Dr. Quest."

"I don't know what else to tell you," Benton said. "I suspect you know as much as I do about what being a Navy Seal entails. He's able to help me in the lab if I explain things to him. I don't really know too much about his abilities except for what's come up."

"Would they put him in charge of a search for you?" Crandall asked.

Benton stared at him. This was edging close to territory he didn't want to touch on. Crandall turned and backhanded Jonny again, and this time his son let out a cry of pain that he quickly cut off. Benton winced, clenching his eyes shut against the tears that were coming. "Yes, probably," he said miserably. "In coordination with headquarters."

"I see. Tell me about his family. I know he has a daughter and an ex-wife. The daughter lives with you, doesn't she?"

Benton took in a deep breath. "You leave Jessie alone, you rotten creep!" Jonny yelled before Benton could speak. Crandall grabbed him by the hair, twisting his head back.

"Quiet, boy. Do not speak unless asked a direct question."

"Leave him alone!" Benton exclaimed desperately, leaning forward against the gun that was holding him back.

Crandall released Jonny's head with a shake. "I will, when you start answering my questions without hesitating. Tell me about Bannon's family."

"Estella is an archeologist," Benton said immediately. "She's working in Argentina this year and next, as I understand it. Jessie's gone out to visit her. Race took her there the day you – the day your people came and got us."

"I see." Crandall walked over and gazed thoughtfully into Benton's face. "Does the girl have any particular abilities?"

"What? Why?" Crandall turned away and started toward Jonny, who cringed away, but Marcus held him firm. Benton shoved the gun out of his way and grabbed Crandall's arm. "No, I just don't understand the question. What is it you want to know?"

Crandall turned on him. "Is she unusually good at something one might not expect? I'm not talking about school work or ballet here."

"She's good with computers."

"How good?"

"I don't know exactly. She's only lived at the compound for three months, I don't know her that well."

Crandall nodded. "I suppose that makes sense." He turned again and walked toward Jonny.

"What are you doing?" Benton asked frantically, grabbing him again. "I told you –"

Turning sharply, Crandall glared at him. "Sit down, Dr. Quest," he said coldly. "Chris might get nervous."

Benton forced himself to back away and sit back down in the chair. "I've told you what I know," he said desperately.

"I was merely going to ask Jonathon for his perspective." He turned back to Jonny. "So, young man, this girl has lived in your house for three months, you must know something about her."

Jonny shrugged. "I don't know. She's a girl."

"Meaning what? That you never spent any time with her?"

"I don't understand her. She's a girl. I don't understand half of what she says."

"Tell me about the half you do understand."

"She talks a lot about the toilet seat," Jonny said.

"What?" Crandall said. He turned to Benton. "Is he serious?"

"She's a girl coming into a household full of men who haven't any of us had a female in the house for years."

"That wasn't what I meant," Crandall shot back. "Does he seriously think that's what I want to know?"

"He's twelve and he's terrified," Benton said, hoping Jonny would keep his mouth shut for once. "He can't think! You shut down his ability to think."

Crandall pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Would he talk to you?" he asked.

"Not now you've said that!" Benton exclaimed.

Raising his eyebrows, Crandall gave him an ironic look. "I suspect you can persuade him." He turned toward Marcus. "Release the boy. Chris, come along. We're going to leave them alone for a little while."

As soon as Marcus and Chris were out of the way, Jonny shot across the room. Benton met him halfway and stood holding Jonny tightly. He heard Crandall chuckling as he left the room, and it just sent the temperature on his simmering anger a notch higher.

He held Jonny silently for a few moments, but he was all too aware that Crandall would expect an answer to his question. He picked Jonny up, carried him over to the sofa and sat down with him. "Jonny, listen to me."

"Yeah, Dad?" Jonny looked up at him with tears running down his face. One of his lips was split and his mouth and cheek were swelling. His left eye was turning purple and beginning to swell.

Benton bit his lip, fighting down his fury. "We don't have any choice, Jonny. We've got to –"

"No!" Jonny exclaimed. "She's a girl. You and Race always said we had to protect girls. I can't –"

"Jonny, you've got to listen to me. There are exceptions to every rule."

"I won't tell Crandall anything about Jessie!"

"Jonny, he might kill you." Jonny stared up at him, eyes wide. "He nearly did last night, though he didn't mean to. And if he kills you, he won't have a hostage to use against me."

"Well, that would be good, wouldn't it?"

"No, because he'll just go get Hadji and do the same to him as he's doing to you."

Jonny took in a deep breath. "What does he want to know, though? I don't get it. She's thirteen. So what if she's good with computers? So's Hadji. It doesn't mean anything."

"Jonny, it doesn't matter. Just answer any questions he asks you." Jonny's chin started to jut stubbornly. "For me, Jonny. Please do it for me."

"But Race will be angry –"

"Race will understand. He'd want us to stay alive until he can find us."

"But when you were with Chu Sing Ling, you never agreed, and that was only three hours!"

Benton grimaced. "And Race was furious with me. I got a very stern lecture about keeping myself alive long enough for rescue to come."

Jonny blinked thoughtfully. "I guess it was after that when you guys started talking about not antagonizing people and stuff like that."

"Yes, it was. Not that either you or Hadji listened all that closely." Jonny looked down at his hands and sniffed. "Will you answer his questions, Jonny? Please? For me, son?"

"I guess," Jonny said very quietly.

Benton hugged him close. Right into Jonny's ear, he said, "Race will find us, my boy. He will."

* * *

Jonny tried to control his sniffles. He didn't want to do it, but he'd do anything for his dad. No matter what his father said, Jonny knew Race would be mad, but he didn't want to get killed. And he didn't want Crandall to get his hands on Hadji. And he didn't want Crandall to hurt his dad.

"Race is late. He's very late. He needs to get here now."

"He'll be here, Jonny." Jonny took in a deep, shuddering breath. Crandall could come back at any time, and he didn't want that jerk to see him crying. He started to knuckle away the tears, but when he touched his face it hurt. His father pulled out the tail of his shirt and wiped his eyes very gently. "We will be okay."

Jonny swallowed past the lump in his throat. He felt really stupid, acting like this, but he couldn't help it. He leaned against his father's chest and hugged him, content to stay in that position until Crandall made them stop. He let out a sigh when Dad started rocking him and relaxed against him. This felt very familiar. He'd spent a lot of time in this position after his mother died. There was only one thing missing.

"Dad?" he asked. "Why'd you stop wearing that aftershave?"

There was a brief pause in the rocking, then his father resumed. "What aftershave?" he asked in a puzzled tone.

"You know, that aftershave. The spicy one." Jonny'd never known what it was called, just that that's how Dad smelled.

"Umm. . .I'm not sure what you mean."

"The one you used to wear when Mom was alive. You smelled spicy, and Mom smelled like caramel." He was silent for a moment. "I miss Mom."

"Me too, Jonny."

A horrible thought occurred to him. "But I'm glad she's not here."

His dad's arms tightened around him. "Me too."

"I miss Hadji, too."

When the door opened, Jonny stiffened and turned his head to see who had come in. It was Crandall, and he wore a silky smile. "So, do we have an understanding, now, Dr. Quest?"

Jonny slid off his father's lap and sat on the sofa, still leaning up against him, gazing fearfully at Crandall.

"I understand a great deal more than I care to," Jonny's father said. Jonny looked up at him, puzzled. Hadn't he just said they shouldn't antagonize anyone?

Crandall crossed his arms and started tapping his foot. "Is Jonathon going to answer my questions or not?"

"Yes, he is."

The villain's posture relaxed, and he smiled. "Good." He settled down in one of the chairs across the coffee table. "Tell me about Jessie, then."

Jonny looked down at his hands. "She's really good on computers. Almost as good as Hadji. When they get going, I don't understand a lot of what they do."

"What did he say?" Crandall asked, leaning forward. Jonny drew back. Crandall's lip curled. "Does he need a microphone?"

"Don't jeer at him," his father said. "He said that she's almost as good as Hadji on computers, and that he doesn't always understand what they do."

"I thought he was supposed to be some kind of prodigy." Jonny cringed.

"They're all prodigies!" his father exclaimed. Jonny shrank down lower. Jessie and Hadji knew more than he did about almost everything.

"Are they?" Crandall asked, a broad grin spreading across his face. "How intriguing."

"What else did you want to ask Jonny?" As he asked this, his dad rubbed Jonny's arm reassuringly. Jonny leaned his head against his father's shoulder.

"Is there anything else she's particularly good at?"

Jonny shrugged. "Judo and math. Everything. They're both good at everything!" Jonny turned and buried his head in his father's side.

He felt the vibration of his father's chest as he started to speak. "I think Jonny's had quite en–"

"And what are you good at, young Mr. Quest?" Crandall asked.

Jonny turned his head back and gulped. "Getting in trouble. And catching minions."

"Catching minions? Really?" Crandall raised his eyebrows. "And just how do you do that?"

Jonny scowled at him. "I don't know, I just do. I think it's because minions are stupid."

"Quite possibly. Now, you have spent a great deal of time with Agent Bannon. I understand he was your tutor as well as your bodyguard. Why don't you tell me about Race's abilities?"

Jonny felt himself start to quiver with rage. He tried valiantly to suppress it. He heard his father draw in breath to say something when the dam broke. "Race can do anything, and he's going to come in here and kick your butt!" Crandall's eyes narrowed to cold slits of gray menace, and Jonny abruptly realized what he'd said and to whom. He buried his face in his father's side again, hot tears burning tracks down his cheeks.

"He's tired," Benton said. "And he's scared and he's lonely and he's in pain. You've kept him isolated from me, and there hasn't been anyone who really cares about him nearby. We need some time together." His father took in a deep breath. "Please, let me have some time with my son, Crandall. You can't take me away from him when he's in this state. Please."

"I need you to start working on those projects."

"I'll start tomorrow if you let me keep Jonny with me. I'll work all day. I'll do anything you want, just let me have this afternoon with him and let him stay with me. He can help me. He's used to helping me. He always has." Jonny shrunk down tighter against his side. His father was babbling. He had to be really scared to babble like this. "He's not used to being away from me, and I'm not used to it either. Please, it will be easier for me to concentrate."

"I'll just bet it will," Crandall said. "And he'll be right to hand if any problems come up." Jonny looked up, and his father's arm tightened around him. "I see no reason to deny your perfectly reasonable request, Dr. Quest." He rose. "Marcus, Chris, keep watch outside the room. I'll have Patricia come in shortly with some medical supplies."

When he was gone, Jonny looked up at his father. "Race is going to be too late, isn't he?" he asked.

His father's eyes widened. "No, Jonny. Race will be here in plenty of time. I'm sure he's on his way right now." Jonny leaned against his dad. He sounded kind of scared.

* * *

Race sat in the plane, frustrated beyond belief. Jessie and Hadji were making sure all the relevant programs were up and running on her laptop as well as double checking that Hadji had brought the right CDs with him. Both Diana and Estella were leaning back in their chairs, sleeping. Race just couldn't relax.

He wanted to be out doing something, not waiting for some news to break. Somewhere out there were two people who were counting on him to come to the rescue, and he was stuck. Stymied by six college-age kids who'd vanished into the Canadian countryside. Granted, they were kids with the capacity to generate an incredibly powerful EM pulse and cause those same two people to vanish without much of a trace, and there was no guarantee that there were actually only six of them. Six was all anybody had seen, but that didn't mean there weren't dozens more hiding in the woodwork.

The urge to get up and start pacing threatened to overwhelm him, but he shoved it down. He didn't want to wake Diana or Estella, and he knew that his pacing would drive Jessie nuts. Hadji, too, probably, though he wouldn't show it.

Diana's phone rang, waking her up. Blinking, she brought her chair upright and answered it. Race wondered who it was. Her eyes flashed to him, and she began speaking eagerly. Was there some kind of break? Or news of any kind?

He shied away from the horrible image that floated to the surface of his mind, their broken and battered bodies having washed ashore somewhere. Diana stood up and made her way up to the pilot and spoke to him. Race watched as he contacted the air traffic controllers and made changes in their course with growing worry and anticipation.

Diana straightened and walked back to the seat next to his. Sitting down, she said, "I hope you don't mind a slight change of plans." He raised an eyebrow. "That car was stopped this morning in New Brunswick. The kids in it, who match some of the fingerprints we found on the boat and at the dock, claim they were just touring Canada after the end of the semester."

"Are they being held?"

Diana nodded. "We certainly have enough evidence to hold them on suspicion of kidnapping. In fact, I'm told that I-1 has already put in a request for their extradition that's heading through our court system right now."

"Race?" He looked up and saw Estella looking at him. "News?"

"Some of those kids have been picked up. How many, Diana?"

"Four."

"Four out of six ain't bad," Race muttered. "How long till we land?"

"Another hour."

"Which ones? That way I can have Jessie focus on them in her digging." She gave him the information and he walked to the back of the plane where Jessie and Hadji were just noticing their change of course.

"Where are we going, Race?" Hadji asked, brows knitting.

"Somewhere in New Brunswick, where the Canadian police are holding four of the jokers who took Dr. Quest and Jonny."

Jessie's green eyes flashed with delight. "That's great, Dad! You'll be able to get them to tell you anything you want to know."

Sighing at this sign of overconfidence, he handed her a slip of paper. "Well, here's the list of names. I thought it might help if you focused on them so we could get as much information on them as possible."

"Good idea." She took the paper. "I'll get right on it."

Race watched as she and Hadji worked for a few minutes. These kids impressed the hell out of him. Most everyone else just saw a group of teenagers that weren't even old enough to drive, but when they were doing the things they were good at, all three of them were unstoppable.

As he turned away, he heard Jessie speak very quietly to Hadji. "I wish Jonny was here."

"And I as well," Hadji replied. "He excels at thinking around corners."

The hour passed slowly for Race, as did the twenty-minute car ride to the holding facility. When they arrived, they had to go through the whole ritual of checking in, having their identities verified. The kids, of course, had to stay in the waiting area with Estella, but even before he and Diana had left the room with Inspector Thomas, they were plugged into the wall and continuing their search.

He looked at the prisoners through the windows of the interrogation rooms that each sat in alone. The two girls that had been arrested were the blondes. According to their identification, they were Kathleen Harper and Pauline Bettencourt and they were twenty-three and twenty respectively. The boys were Benjamin Ng, nineteen, with black hair and brown eyes, and Matthew Carvaggio, twenty-one, with brown hair and blue eyes. Race shook his head. One of those kids was only five years older than Hadji, seven years older than Jonny. Hell, he hated it when kids were involved.

"We picked them up while they were stopped at a roadside overlook," said Thomas, who was a tall, lean man with salt and pepper hair and piercing black eyes. "They had all the paraphernalia of tourists, cameras, binoculars, guide books. They don't deny renting the boat, but they say they just went out and enjoyed the water."

"What about the other two kids? Do they say where they went?"

He shook his head. "No. One of them says they were headed to Niagra Falls, the other says they were going to Monterey, in California. The other two said they weren't sure. We've alerted the police in both those regions, but I don't expect they'll find anything."

"You're probably right," Race said. "They have anything they shouldn't have on them?"

"Not a blessed thing." He took them into a side room. "These are their effects. I don't know what you'll make of them, but they seem completely normal to me."

Race sorted through the tubs, each of them marked with a name. Four backpacks, the kind college kids around the country wore constantly. There was a mix of Canadian and American money in the wallets, two guide books, a book of poems by William Wordsworth, a bird watcher's guide to eastern Canada, assorted snacks, candy and keys. Nothing out of the ordinary, as Thomas had said.

"Have you checked out their purported home towns?"

"Yes," he said. "It's rather intriguing, really. From what we've been able to tell, Carvaggio and Bettencourt are, in fact, registered at Rutgers University in New Jersey, Ng at the University of California in Davis, and Harper at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. We sent I-1 all the information the kids gave us and they've been looking into the histories. They're all excellent students in good standing at their colleges."

"What are their fields of study?" Diana asked.

"Ng is studying chemistry, Bettencourt physics, Carvaggio economics and Harper already has a degree in chemical engineering and is seeking her master's in food science. Not the sorts of kids you'd expect to be involved in something like this."

"No," Race said thoughtfully. "But they matched the fingerprints?"

"Yes," said another man, walking up to them. "I'm Chief Kiley, Agent Bannon. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, I'm sure," Race said. "Which fingerprints and where?"

"Harper was the most prolific. We've matched her prints to ones found in the office at Brown's Boats, in the wheelhouse and the cabin in which the prisoners were kept, and," he paused grinning up at Race in a very pleased manner. "With prints found at the house in Maine."

"Hot damn!" Race said, grinning back. "What about the others?"

"Not unexpectedly, all their prints are present on the boat and at Brown's Boats. None of them are quite so telling as Harper's, however."

"That could be useful," Race mused. "Real useful." He glanced up at Chief Kiley. "I take it you've spoken with Director Corvin?"

"Yes."

"Do they know why you're holding them?"

"We've told them there's an irregularity with their visas. After 9/11, I don't think they're having too much trouble believing it."

Race felt a slow grin spread across his face. "Would you mind very much if I just observed the questioning at first? You know, just sat in a chair in the room and watched?"

A young woman in a lab coat walked up. "Inspector Thomas?" she said diffidently.

"Yes, Greene?"

"We've found something. There's traces of blood on one of their shoes."

Race's attention focused. "Which one?"

"Kathleen Harper."

"Is it human?" Kiley asked.

She nodded. "We used the kit I-1 sent over. It's not only human, but it matches the blood at the crime scene."

Race walked out of the evidence room and over to stand by the window of the room where Kathleen Harper sat, eyes darting nervously from the window to the security camera. She was slight of figure, with pale blond hair and green eyes. A sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose just completed the air of innocence. She looked very odd in the orange jumpsuit she'd been issued by the jail.

And this was the girl who had Jonny's blood on her shoes and whose fingerprints were found at every point in the chain.

"Race?" He jumped and turned to see Diana standing close behind him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You know, you might be a little too close to this situation to –"

He stiffened. "Don't even suggest I step aside and let someone else handle it, Diana. I can't. For one thing, it's my job. For another, there's no way I could abandon that kid and his father. No way in hell."

She glanced around, making sure that no one was close enough to hear them. "Anyone could see that this isn't just a job for you, Race."

He turned on her. "Diana, I've spent more time with Jonny over the past six years than I have with my own daughter. I love him like he was my own kid, and Benton might as well be my brother. You're right, I am personally involved. But they're counting on me." He shook his head. "I've already let them down once. I can't do it again."

"What do you mean, you let them down?"

"They shouldn't have been taken in the first place. I didn't do a good enough job of setting up the security."

"Well kicking yourself till you're black and blue won't help any," Diana said. "Come on. We've got to start the interrogations."

After discussing it, they decided that Race would stay outside at first, and that they wouldn't immediately start asking questions about the Quests in specific.

Race stood outside the window, watching Inspector Thomas and Diana as they rehashed all the questions that had already been asked.

"Hasn't this visa trouble been straightened out?" Ng asked finally. "We got them through the Canadian embassy in New York."

"I'm afraid we still have a few questions we need answered," Diana said. "About that boat. Did you ever leave the boat unattended for a significant length of time?"

"We were out in deep waters," he said. "One of us was on board all the time."

"So, if someone else had come aboard, you would have been sure to notice?"

The boy stiffened slightly. "Yes. But no one did. I told you, we just went out for a few days to have some fun and watch to see if we could spot any birds or whales or anything."

"Was any of your friends injured while you were on the boat?" Inspector Thomas asked.

"I don't think so," he said slowly. "Not seriously, for sure."

"So if I told you we found blood on the boat, you'd be surprised?"

He nodded. "There shouldn't have been, I mean, someone would have said something if they'd hurt themselves that badly. Maybe the guy who rented us the boat, maybe he hurt himself."

"No, he's fine."

"Well, we didn't see any blood, at least, no one said anything."

The inspector nodded. "I see. So, what happened to the radio?"

"The radio?" Ng's voice faltered.

"Yes, it's completely ruined, melted inside. What happened to it?"

"I'm not sure," Ng said. "Steve handled all the communications. I never touched the radio." _Handy that,_ thought Race. _Blame one of the kids we don't have._ Ng knit his eyebrows. "Hey, what's this all about? Why are you asking about the boat if you just have a problem with my visa?"

"Do you have a problem answering questions about the boat?" Diana asked neutrally.

Ng slouched down in his chair. "No, I just don't see any connection."

"Let's see, according to our records, you rented the boat from the twelfth of June through the fifteenth, right?" she asked, glancing down at the papers she held.

"That's right, yes."

"What would you say if I told you that your boat was spotted, on the fourteenth, just offshore in American coastal waters?"

"I'd say your witness was mistaken," Ng said. "We never went anywhere near shore, certainly not that far south."

"Really?" Inspector Thomas leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. That was Race's cue. Their strategy depended on the assumption that anyone who had targeted Dr. Quest would recognize Race Bannon as a member of the household. It seemed a safe assumption, but it was about to be tested.

Race opened the door and stepped through, shutting it behind him and leaning back against it. Crossing his arms, he gazed over at the young man, whose eyes widened with something like shock. He caught himself quickly, but not fast enough. That had been a telltale reaction. Race smiled lazily.

"It just so happens," he said, "that the witness was a sophisticated camera with high definition digital capabilities writing straight to compressed VCD."

"Perhaps the image was tampered with," Ng said. "We were nowhere near the American coast. We stayed out away from shore the whole time."

"And that will be checked, of course," Inspector Thomas said. "But you might as well save us some time. What were you and your friends doing just off the shore of Maine at 2:12 p.m. on the fourteenth of June?"

"We weren't anywhere near Maine!" Ng said angrily. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

"All right," Diana said in a soothing voice. "So you weren't near Maine. We know that the boat was. So who had the boat?"

"I told you, we never left the boat."

"I see," Inspector Thomas said. "Do you know what an EM pulse is?"

"A what?" Ng was growing pale now.

"An EM Pulse. Electromagnetic pulse."

"Not really."

There was a pause that seemed to last ten minutes. Race wondered how long it felt to Ng. Finally, Diana looked back down at her file and started asking questions again, this time less obviously barbed. "According to your college records, your parents live in San Francisco, California."

"Yes. I grew up there." Oddly, even though one might consider this to be safer ground, Ng seemed more than a little uneasy at this line of questioning.

"And went to Darnley Elementary School, followed by Coates Junior High and Central High School?" He nodded, shifting nervously.

"I see. How old were you when your family moved to San Francisco?"

"I was born there. In Memorial Hospital," he said.

She continued to ask such ordinary questions for quite some time, writing down his answers. Ng kept glancing toward Race, seeming uncomfortable in his presence. Finally, Diana, who'd been turning the pages in the file, picked up a picture that was at the back of the file and held it up so he could see it. It was an 8½x11 studio shot of Benton. "Have you ever met Dr. Benton Quest?"

The kid's jaw dropped and his eyes shot to Race's face. Recovering himself, he said, "No. I know he's missing, it's been on the news. But I've never met him." Swallowing, he added, "You don't think we had anything to do with his disappearance, do you?"

"Well, let's see," Race said thoughtfully. "The boat you rented was recorded approaching the Quest compound just before an EM pulse knocked out all the power and security systems. Jonny's blood and both his and Dr. Quest's fingerprints have been found in a cabin of that boat. The blood was found on the fifteenth, and it was fresh enough to have been shed on the fourteenth. We know Jonny was injured in the kidnapping. Care to explain that concatenation of events?"

The boy's eyes widened steadily as Race listed off the evidence. "Kidnapping is a pretty serious offense," Race went on. "Taking them out of American coastal waters makes it international, and adds a few more counts to it. You're looking at spending a pretty sizable chunk of your life behind bars."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ng said, his voice somewhat shrill with tension. "I have done nothing wrong. We just rented a boat for fun. This is just a case of mistaken identity."

The questioning went much the same with the other three. Race's sudden appearance startled them all, but there were no surprise confessions. The four were uniform in their denial that they had anything at all to do with the Quests' disappearance. When they'd finished with the last one, Race was ready to spit nails.

They needed information and they needed it now.


	8. A Deluded Minion

After Crandall and his goons had been gone for a few minutes, Benton got Jonny to stand up and took him through the bedroom and into the bathroom. He sat him down on the edge of the tub. "I'm sorry, Jonny," he said miserably, looking at his son's bruised and swelling face. He got a washcloth wet and knelt down in front of him. He shouldn't have hesitated, he should just have told Crandall everything he wanted to know.

"It's not your fault, Dad," Jonny said, reaching out and putting his hand on his shoulder. "I'm just glad it's me and not you." Benton's jaw dropped. "Younger people heal faster." Jonny tried to smile, but he winced.

Benton took in a deep breath. He didn't think Jonny would understand if he started crying right now. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said. Very gently, he wiped away the blood on Jonny's face. As he was rinsing out the washcloth to continue, he heard the door open.

He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. _Who the hell is it now?_ "Jonny, stay here," he said, then went out into the bedroom. Patricia stood there, holding a tray with ice pack and some pills. Benton reached out for it, but she didn't give it to him. "Give it here," he said.

"Why aren't you cooperating?" she said. "I don't understand. I thought you were cooperating."

"Give me the ice pack," he growled. "Jonny's in there and he's in pain."

Her eyes widened, looking at something behind him. He turned and saw that Jonny had emerged from the bathroom. "I told you to stay in there."

"I was afraid someone had come to take you away," Jonny said.

Patricia put the tray down on the bed and picked up the ice pack, which was already wrapped in soft cloth. "What on earth was he thinking?" she asked as she went toward Jonny.

Benton stepped between them and put out his hand. "Please give that to me."

She handed it over, saying, "I wouldn't hurt him, Dr. Quest, really."

He took it but didn't speak, just turning back to Jonny. He placed the ice pack very carefully against Jonny's face, and put an arm around his shoulder, guiding him to sit on the bed. "Son, can you sit here for me for a minute? I want to talk to Patricia in the next room."

Jonny nodded. "Is it okay if I turn on the TV?"

"Sure."

Benton stood up and turned to Patricia, gesturing for her to precede him into the sitting room. When they were in there, and Jonny had the television on, he crossed his arms and said, "So, Patricia, what did you mean, 'what was he thinking'?"

She looked distinctly uncomfortably, which suited Benton just fine. "That's too much," she said in a shaky voice.

"Too much as compared to what?" Benton asked in a quiet voice. She winced. "Should he only have hit him once instead of twice?"

"They're not really supposed to hit them like that at all," she said. "Not unless the parents really aren't cooperating at all."

"I was cooperating," Benton said in a flat tone.

"But then why was he hurting Jonny?"

"I didn't immediately answer a question he asked me." Benton found suddenly that he was quivering with rage. "He sent for Jonny, and insisted that he had to deliver punishment. If I hesitate for even a second, he gets angry. If I ask a question or ask for clarification, he gets angry. If Jonny says anything. . ." He stopped, shaking his head.

"I know Marcus can be a bit rough, but he doesn't –"

"You think Marcus did that to Jonny?" Benton asked. "Marcus held on to him, but Crandall's the one who hit him."

"But the suits aren't supposed to do that," she exclaimed, her eyes wide. "You're supposed to get to a point where you don't mind having them around as long as they don't bring the guards."

"Well, I don't think Crandall's following your handbook."

"I've got to tell Dr. Pascale. This is just wrong."

"All of it is wrong, Patricia!" Benton exclaimed. "It is never all right to kidnap a child. It is never all right to hit a child! Your priorities are utterly insane!" Benton stopped abruptly as he saw Jonny appear in the door way.

"I heard yelling," he said worriedly. "Did Crandall come back?"

"No, Jonny."

"Then who was yelling?"

Benton sighed. "I was."

"At Patricia?"

"I'm sorry, Jonny, I just got a little emotional."

"Oh, it's okay, I yell at her, too. She's deluded." He looked thoughtful. "I don't think she's an evil minion, just a deluded minion."

"Yes, I'd say she's deluded," Benton agreed.

"I'm not deluded!" Patricia exclaimed. "And I'm not evil." She turned to Jonny. "I would never hurt you."

Benton walked over to Jonny, throwing a glare over his shoulder at Patricia. "It's okay, Jonny. I want to talk to Patricia a little longer."

"Okay. Are you going to undelude her?"

"I'm working on it."

"Can I have Bandit?"

Benton raised his eyebrows. He'd almost forgotten about the dog. He turned to Patricia. "Do you think you could go and get Jonny's dog?"

"I can try," she said. "If he tries to bite me, though. . ."

"I understand."

She left without a backward glance, and Benton wondered if she'd even come back. He went in and sat with Jonny, who was watching _I Love Lucy_. His son looked up as he joined him. "It's cool that there aren't any commercials, but the programming is bizarre."

"What's bizarre about _I Love Lucy_?" Benton asked.

"No! Here, look. This is the program guide." He flipped to the channel and Benton obediently looked. Jonny was right, it was bizarre. All of the shows were either documentaries or the sweetness and light sitcoms that were so prevalent in the fifties and sixties. Or movies with similar themes.

"That is odd. They must have their own system."

"Yeah, the SCN," Jonny said. "The Stepford Cable Network."

Benton laughed. "Very observant, Jonny."

"Yeah, this really reminds me of a movie I saw awhile back, um. . . _Pleasantville_. Maybe everything should be in black and white." Jonny was silent for a moment while they watched Lucy stuff chocolate into her mouth. "My face hurts."

"You want some –" Benton reached out and grabbed the pill bottle. "Some naproxen? It's an anti-inflammatory."

Jonny shrugged and took the pill Benton handed him. A few minutes later, the door opened again and Bandit came bounding out of Patricia's arms and bounced over to the bed.

"Bandit!" Jonny cried as the little dog jumped up onto the bed. He started licking Jonny's face, but Jonny pushed him away. "Not right now, boy," he said, scratching his ears. "That hurts."

Benton stood up and took Patricia back into the sitting room. "No trouble, I take it."

"That dog is eerily smart. I told him I was taking him to Jonny, and he was good as gold."

"He's been in these sorts of situations before, too," Benton said dryly. "Patricia, do you really think this life you live is normal? People being kidnapped, their children being harmed to persuade them to cooperate?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I know it's not how everybody lives. But if you lived with us and worked for the corporation, you wouldn't be kidnapped anymore. The corporation has excellent security."

"But no freedom."

"I'm free to do what I want."

"Can you go visit your mother in Florida?"

"She comes to see me."

Benton shook his head. "There are all sorts of ways to limit freedom, Patricia. One of them is by restricting choices. If you don't know something is possible, you don't know you aren't allowed to do it." She knit her eyebrows in a puzzled manner. "For instance, television shows. The ones available here are quite limited."

"There are more at some of the other facilities. A couple of channels for kids, a few more movie channels."

"Have you ever heard of _The Sixth Sense_ or _Harry Potter_?"

"Who is Harry Potter?" she asked. "And isn't the sixth sense supposed to be telepathy?"

" _The Sixth Sense_ is a movie that was huge a few years back. The kind of thing that even people who never saw it heard about," he said. "And Harry Potter the main character of a book series that is an enormous phenomenon, about a secret society of wizards who live apart from the rest of the world. Sounds a bit familiar, doesn't it?" he said wryly.

"What do you mean?"

Benton closed his eyes and shook his head. "Never mind, Patricia. Suffice it to say that the way you people live is wrong. Abduction isn't a recruitment technique, it's a crime. And what Crandall's doing to Jonny is called assault and battery. It's a felony, they're both felonies."

"Not here."

"Where is here?" Benton demanded.

"This is Base 12," she said. "It's part of the corporation."

"Yes, but what country is it in?"

"We're autonomous, and our bases are all over the world." Benton felt a chill. _Where the hell are we?_ he wondered. _Base 12? Out of how many?_

"Well, regardless, the kidnapping took place in Maine, and there it's a felony."

"But the corporation is autonomous. The laws of nations don't apply to us."

"Like hell they don't. There are international laws, and kidnapping is one of them. It's recognized by all countries."

"You don't understand. We're outside that sort of thing."

"There's no such thing, Patricia. If any of your colleagues were caught by the government, they would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law, and any nation would do the same thing. Jonny's right, you are a deluded minion."

"I am not a minion."

"You work for the villain."

"I work for the corporation."

"Any corporation that details in its handbook how to kidnap children and beat them is villainous, Patricia. I have to get back to my son." He turned away, but just as he reached the door to the bedroom, he turned back. "You really should give some thought to just how your sister died. Was she sick before your parents were _recruited_ by the corporation?"

He turned and left her gaping like a fish. He settled down on the bed with his son and pulled him into his arms. Bandit shifted so that he was leaning against both of them and wagged his tail. Jonny looked at him over his shoulder. "Did you undelude her?"

"I certainly tried."

"Good."

Two days at least they'd been here. He wasn't sure how long he was out when they sedated him, and he hadn't seen the sun yet, but he was sure they'd been gone for at least two days.

One way or another, they had to get away from these lunatics. Quite apart from everything else, Hadji would be worried, and if he knew his elder son, he would be on his way to try and find them before long, no matter what Race tried to do to stop him.


	9. A Culture of Abduction

When they all took a break, Race went out to check on Jessie and Hadji. A computer had been delivered for Hadji while he had been occupied in the interrogations, and the boy was hard at work. Jessie smiled up at him. "Did you find anything useful?"

"Not yet, Ponchita, what about you?"

"Well, Jose sent us copies of all the information I-1's gathered on them so far, and since Hadji's faster on government systems than I am, I've been looking at their records in school and I've found enough to get them all kicked out of their colleges."

Race raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"Not one of them attended the high schools they say they did. There's some superficial evidence on the records, but if you start looking deeper, at class rosters, attendance and immunization records, none of them shows up."

"Really?"

Jessie nodded. "All four of them are large high schools, really impacted. If they ran into any kids who went to the same high school they claim they did, it would be believable that they didn't know them."

"Ng said he was born at Memorial Hospital in San Francisco. Can you look into that?"

"Sure. Hospitals can be a little harder to break into –" She broke off, looking guiltily up at him.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Ponchita." He glanced around. "Where's your mother?"

"She went out to get us some dinner. I think she said she was getting Mexican." He looked out the window, hoping she'd get back soon. "Dad?" Jessie said in a small voice. Race looked down at her and saw that her expression was serious, almost scared. "That was a lot of blood."

He sat down next to her. "Yeah, that it was."

She leaned against his side. "He's not dead? We're sure?"

Race made it a policy never to lie to the kids, and never to make promises he couldn't keep. "As sure as we can be, Ponchita."

"They've never been missing this long before, have they? Hadji said . . ."

"What did Hadji say?"

"Just that they've never been gone this long. I think he's scared, too." Race looked over at Hadji. The kids were some distance apart, due to the location of the wall outlets. Hadji was concentrating, brow furrowed, on the screen in front of him. Race knew him well, he could see the tension in his shoulders, the worry in his eyes. "He tried to meditate earlier, I think to calm down, but he couldn't."

Hadji was always so calm, so unruffled, it occasionally wasn't real obvious when he was upset. Race cursed himself for not thinking, and for not paying enough attention. His father and his brother were missing. He had to be frantic even if he didn't show it on the surface. He wished there were three of him. One to sit with Jessie, one to sit with Hadji and one to make those wretched kids in those holding cells tell him what he needed to know.

"No, they've never been gone this long." Race wondered what Dr. Quest must be thinking. What was happening. What he could be doing differently to find them faster. Giving Jessie a kiss on the forehead, he stood up. "So it's a new record," he said, trying to lighten the tone.

She smiled up at him, but he could tell it took a real effort. "Yeah. A record."

He touched her shoulder and went over to Hadji. "How you holding up, kid?"

Hadji looked up at him, and Race saw that his eyes were bloodshot. "I am very worried."

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

Shrugging the boy said, "I have not slept since you called me." Seeing Race's concerned look, he added, "I will be fine. I could not sleep, even if I tried. They have been missing for more than forty-eight hours now. I am hoping that they have escaped and have merely been unable to call us, but I cannot bring myself to believe it."

"I know." He squatted down next to him. Unlike Jessie, who was sitting on a bench, Hadji was sitting on a single chair. "We're going to find them."

"I know we are. I just hope we are in time." Hadji bit his lip. "I need to keep working, Race. It will keep me calm."

Race stood up and squeezed the boy's shoulder. Hadji reached up and squeezed his hand. "I have no doubts that we will find them, Race," he said. "I just worry that something will happen before then."

As Race headed back toward the inner sanctum of the jail, Estella walked in carrying two enormous bags of takeout. "So, did you get any useful information yet?"

"Not yet," Race said. "I'm going back in. Keep an eye on Hadji, would you?"

"I have been." She looked over at the boy. "He's practically simmering with worry." He turned away. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"Not hungry. I'll catch something later."

He went through the door as she said, "But Race –" The door closing behind him cut her words off.

Diana came out of the restroom as he walked past toward the conference room they were supposed to be meeting in after their break. "How are the kids?" she asked.

"Holding up as well as can be expected," Race said. "Jessie's found some dirt. Not one of them went to high school where they said they did."

"Really?"

"Hadji's working the government agency end of things, and I've got Jessie checking out that hospital the Ng boy said he was born in."

"I'm not sure how that helps us."

"It gives us something to chip away at their stories with." As they passed, Race glanced into Kathleen Harper's room. "I want them," he added, clenching his fist.

"Calmly, Race. Your anger isn't going to help."

He pursed his lips and sat down, waiting for the mucky-mucks to come in. While he was waiting, he called Phil. After filling him in on their progress, he asked, "How're you coming on that satellite tracking?"

"It's looking promising. They found the boat, but on the thirteenth, not the fourteenth. We're following it."

"Keep me posted," Race said.

"That's _my_ line," Phil said, then hung up.

When Thomas and Kiley came back in, Race looked up. "We've got to break their stories and fast. Benton and Jonny have been missing for forty-eight hours now, and we're not really any closer to finding them."

"Well, I'd say it's time for someone to start pulling on heartstrings, assuming those kids have any," Thomas said.

"Okay," Race said, standing up. "Get me a fiddle."

A few minutes later, he walked alone into Kathleen Harper's room. She looked up, startled as he shut the door behind him. "Your name's Kathleen, right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Did you know that Jonny and his father were planning to have a movie night on Saturday?"

She blinked. "How could I know that?"

He shrugged. "Well, I figured there was a chance one of them might have said something."

"I didn't see them."

Nodding, he flipped a chair around and sat down. "Yeah, you said that, but the funny thing is, I have trouble believing you." She looked over at the wall, clearly trying to ignore him. "After all, you'd have to be pretty close to get Jonny's blood on your shoe." Her head whipped around and he saw with some satisfaction that her eyes were round with shock. "There's a powerful lot of blood in that kitchen, young lady, and Jonny's not a very big boy." He pursed his lips. "Now, kidnapping and murder are pretty damn serious charges." She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. He gave her a compassionate smile. "And the thing is, you're the only one we can put at the scene. Your fingerprints are at the house in Maine, you have Jonny's blood on your shoe – DNA doesn't lie. Your fingerprints are in the cabin where we found yet more of Jonny's blood . . . you're not stupid, you can see where this is leading."

The young woman lifted her chin. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice shaking.

Race shrugged. "Your friends aren't stupid either. When they see the writing on the wall, they'll start talking, and if you haven't said anything by then, well, whose story are we going to believe? I don't know what happened at that house, but what I do know is that a twelve-year-old boy lost enough blood to die. And if we don't find Benton and Jonny, we can pin Jonny's murder on you."

Her eyes widened. "We don't need a body, you know," he said. "A lot of people make that mistake, thinking that without a body, murder can't be proven. But there's circumstantial evidence aplenty in your case." She swallowed convulsively. "They'll extradite you to the U.S., and you'll be tried for murder in Federal court. You know, Federal courts can apply the death penalty, and the judge might choose to think of Dr. Quest as a Federal employee. He does a lot of work for the government. He goes that route and you'll fry for sure."

"You're talking nonsense," she said.

"Really?" He shrugged and stood up. "I thought I'd give you a chance. You don't look the sort of girl who'd hurt a little boy and then watch him bleed to death. Maybe I'm wrong, though." When he got to the door he turned back. "I'll just go see your friends, now. The death penalty's a mighty strong incentive to come up with a story that leaves them as accomplices. I don't know what you all were after, but it doesn't really matter, does it? You'll be just as dead."

With that, he left the room. When he got outside, he found Inspector Thomas and Chief Kiley waiting for him. "Not bad," said Thomas. "Your little girl came through with some information while you were in there."

"What?"

"Ng wasn't born in that hospital," Kiley said. Race nodded. "But she did a search on his parents' names."

Race cocked his head. "Go on."

"A Margaret and Arthur Ng had a child named Elizabeth at that hospital in 1980. Doing a cross check – those kids of yours are pretty amazing – she found that there's a missing person's report filed on them in 1983."

"Is it still open?"

"Yup."

"I don't suppose you got them to run the names of any of the other kids' parents through to check for that?"

"She'd thought of that herself," he said. "Pauline Bettencourt disappeared from Ontario with her parents in 1989."

"Shit," Race said. "It sounds like a almost like a cult."

"Dad!" The door from the waiting room slammed against the wall and Jessie came flying in, laptop under her arm, one of the guards behind her. Diana came in a second later and spoke to him quietly and he left. Jessie never stopped, she just marched straight toward him. "Dad, you'll never believe what I've found."

"What, Ponchita?"

"Pauline Bettencourt's maternal grandparents are still alive. They have a horse ranch in southern Ontario, not far from Toronto."

"What?"

"And they're still offering a reward for information about Pauline and her parents. There's a notice on the internet." She opened up the laptop and showed them.

It was a picture of a young family, a blond woman sat next to a brown-haired man with a girl of about six on her lap. They were all smiling. Underneath it said, _Louise, Michael and Pauline, Missing since March 1989, but not forgotten._

"Can I borrow this, Ponchita?" Race asked.

"Sure. Are we going to contact them?"

"You leave that to us, little lady," Thomas said. "You're doing a great job."

Jessie grinned under the praise. "It's not just me, you know. Hadji, too."

Thomas went to a phone and, checking the web site, phoned Alan Foster. Race stood by, listening on an extension. When he heard that his granddaughter was in jail in New Brunswick, he said he'd be there in two shakes. He put one of his daughters on for directions while he went to get some clothes packed.

When they were done, Race turned to Thomas. "Do you suppose we could get ahold of the police reports in the case?"

"Already called," said Diana. "The police in Toronto are faxing them over when they locate them."

"Great," Race said. "I'm going in to have a little chat with Pauline."

"So you think her parents' disappearance and this one are connected?" Thomas asked. "That was thirteen years ago."

Race put the laptop on the table. "Look here," he said, pointing at the biographies of the parents. "Michael Bettencourt was a biochemist, and Louise Bettencourt was studying for her PhD in physics."

"Hell," Thomas said. "That does look like a connection, especially since they went missing with their child."

"Yeah, doesn't it." He put the laptop down.

Diana raised an eyebrow. "I find myself wondering, if Mrs. Quest was alive, would she be missing, too?"

Race grimaced. "Dr. Rachel Quest, the microbiologist? Probably."

"Oh."

"Give me a minute," Race said, walking into the room that held Benjamin Ng.

The boy looked up mulishly. "I don't know anything," he declared.

"Humor me for a minute, kid, what does your father do? I mean, what's his profession?"

The boy blinked. "He's in medical research," he said slowly.

Race nodded. "He have a degree?"

"He's a doctor."

"And your mother?"

"She has a bachelor's degree in computer science."

"Thanks." He left and checked with each of the others. When he came out, Kiley, Thomas and Diana looked at him curiously. "They're all professionals, and more specifically, all well educated. Interesting, wouldn't you say?"

"I would," said Kiley. "Is it some kind of intellectual cult?"

Race shook his head. "I don't think it's a cult," he said. "Not the more I hear. It just doesn't feel right somehow. I think it's a brain trust. They use the kids to control them."

"Well, then why are the kids doing this?" Kiley asked.

"Obviously the kids have been indoctrinated," Diana said. "Pauline was what, six, when she went missing? That's a really impressionable age."

"And if what happened to Jonny is at all typical," said Thomas slowly, "those kids start out in pretty bad shape. That's fertile ground for brainwashing."

Race's rage built up abruptly and he took a deep breath to control himself. "Yeah," he said. "But with Jonny they weren't getting some kid who's never faced a bad guy. They got a kid who thinks he, and his dad, are invincible."

"Which means they may kill him trying to prove he's not," Kiley said.

Race felt all the blood drain from his face, and he leaned against the wall. "Don't say that," he said, staring at nothing.

"Are you okay?" Thomas said. "You seem to be getting a little close to this."

"He's been Jonny's bodyguard since he was six," Diana said.

"What the devil is he doing on this investigation, then?" demanded Kiley.

"It's my job," Race said. "I've pulled them out of more bad situations than you've face in your entire career. That kid's got more combat experience than some vets."

"Then you're doing a swell job as his bodyguard, aren't you?" Thomas growled.

Race felt something explode inside him. Diana stepped in between him and the object of his rage. "Okay, boys, time out."

"I'm sorry," Thomas said, shaking his head. "I don't know why I said that."

"I do," Kiley said. "You've been having a crappy week, between that multiple homicide in Kedgwick and the serial rapist that still hasn't been caught."

 _Serial rapist?_ Race thought. _No, I don't have time._

Thomas sighed. "I am sorry, Agent Bannon."

"The stress is getting to all of us," Race said.


	10. The Corporation

When his father fell asleep, Jonny covered him up and turned off the television. He went into the bathroom and turned on the water. He hadn't had a shower since he got here, and he was beginning to feel gross. Jessie would probably plug her nose if she got within smelling distance of him.

He found a towel and hung it near the tub, then climbed into the shower. He was scrubbing his hair when he heard his father yelling. He was about to lean out and answer when the shower curtain was pulled aside suddenly.

Letting out a shocked cry, Jonny grabbed for the curtain. "Dad!" he exclaimed. "I'm naked here!"

"Oh! Sorry, Jonny!" He pulled the curtain shut again. "It's just, I didn't know where you were and – wait a minute." He pulled the curtain back again.

"DAD!"

"Your arms, and your shoulder!"

Jonny grabbed the curtain and yanked it back. "Let me finish!" he yelled.

"All right, Jonny. Sorry." He heard him go out of the bathroom, and he peeked around the edge of the curtain. Then he finished his shower in record time and wrapped the towel around his waist.

"Dad? Are there any clean clothes?"

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah." His father came in carrying a set of clean clothes. He put them down on the toilet seat and left. When Jonny went to put them on, though, he found that there were only underpants and a pair of shorts. "Dad, where's the shirt?"

His father came back in and sat down on the toilet seat. "Come here Jonny." Jonny walked over to him, and his father looked his torso over carefully for bruises. Jonny was embarrassed.

"Dad, I'm okay. My face hurts some, and my leg hurts some, but . . ." He glanced down at his arm and saw that there was an enormous, black, hand-shaped bruise encircling it. On the other arm there was a similar bruise, less intense. "That's where Crandall grabbed me," he said, pointing at the black bruise. "And that's where Marcus grabbed me." He looked back at his father's face. "Dad? Why are you crying?"

His father didn't answer, just pulled him into his arms and hugged him gently. Jonny hadn't seen his father cry in a long time, and that had been when his mother had died. Hadji would know what to do, but he didn't want those creeps to go get him. He just hugged his father back tightly. "Everything's going to be okay, Dad, right? Race will come and we'll be all right?"

"Yes, Jonny, Race will come."

Jonny wanted to ask for his shirt, but now didn't seem like the best time.

* * *

Race walked into the room with Pauline Bettencourt with Jessie's laptop under his arm. The others had insisted that he take another break and eat something before he went on. He got the peculiar feeling that Estella had briefed Diana on the care and feeding of Race Bannon. He did feel a little better with a meal under his belt, but it had been hard to force himself to sit down and eat.

Pauline looked up as he came in, her eyes wary, her face defensive. He walked up to the table and sat down, putting the laptop down in front of him.

"So, Pauline, how's your mother?"

She gave him a puzzled look. "She was fine last time I saw her."

He nodded. "Your grandfather will be glad to hear it," he said. "He's very worried about her, and about you."

The girl's face closed down. "I don't have any grandparents."

"Alan Foster? Did he have the horse ranch when you were little?" Her mouth opened but no words came out. "He's on his way over here right now. I'd imagine he's in the air as we speak."

"He's dead. My grandparents are all dead," she said, her voice quavering.

"He'll be surprised to hear it," Race said. "Your Aunt Mary's coming, too. She was visiting when we called, and she wants to see you."

Pauline blinked and looked down at the table. "Aunt Mary?" she said. "I don't – but she – that's not possible." Her voice didn't sound very firm, though.

He opened up the laptop and touched the sensor pad to get it out of sleep mode. "They really miss you, you know," he said. "See here?" He turned the computer to face her, so that she saw the picture, and her face crumpled up.

"It's not true!" she cried. "It's not true! It can't be true!"

"We didn't put this together, Pauline. Your grandfather's been looking for you and your parents since you disappeared."

"Mom told me he was dead!" she said, shaking her head, looking at nothing. "She wouldn't lie."

"If she thought it would protect you, would she lie?" Pauline looked at him, her eyes wide with shock. "Pauline, tell me what happened when you were six."

"I can't. I'm not supposed to talk about it."

"No one here will stop you."

"I'm not supposed to talk about it," she said again, her voice ragged with tears.

"I really need to know. There's a little boy I care a great deal about that's probably going through a lot the same thing. I need to know what's happening to him."

"I don't know anything about it," she said, crossing her arms, looking everywhere but at the picture on the laptop screen.

"Okay," he said. "I'm going back outside to give you a little time to collect yourself."

He picked up the laptop and stepped outside. Diana raised her eyebrows at him. "That was quite a reaction."

"I just moved her world a few feet to the left of center," Race said. _Poor kid_. "She's bound to be a little shaky. Now it's time to shake Kathleen up some more."

He walked into Kathleen's room, still carrying the laptop. Putting the computer down, he sat on the chair opposite from Kathleen. Her eyes were extremely wary. "So, have you thought about what I said?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Why'd you do it, Kathleen? Why'd you kill Jonny?" Her mouth worked for a moment, but she just stared at him. "He was twelve years old, for Christ's sake! What threat could he have been?" He pushed the computer aside and leaned toward her. "It was an accident, wasn't it? You can tell me. You didn't mean to, it just happened and you couldn't stop it, right?"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" she said, dropping her head into her hands. "Stop it," she added, her voice muffled.

"You know, Jonny's brother and his grandfather are devastated. Wouldn't it be better for them if they had a body to bury and mourn over? Not knowing can be the worst thing of all."

"He doesn't have a brother," she said, her head snapping up.

"What makes you think that? Benton adopted Hadji five years ago. Those two boys are brothers, and Hadji hasn't got any other family than Benton and Jonny." He sighed shook his head. "Do you know what it does to people to lose someone they love like this? When they don't know where they are and aren't even sure if they're dead or not? Poor Doug. He's never going to know if his grandson's alive or dead. After losing his daughter the way he did, I wouldn't be surprised if this killed him."

Kathleen's expression was troubled, but she didn't speak. He opened the laptop and pulled it out of sleep mode and looked at the picture with its poignant caption. "If this goes on too much longer, Hadji and Doug are going to do something like this." He turned the computer so she could see the screen, and her eyes widened. "That's Pauline, you know, the girl in the next room. Her grandfather put this picture on the web, to let people know that his little girl and her little girl were missing."

Kathleen stared at the picture for a long time in silence. "So, were you or your parents taken like that when you were little?" She shook her head. "You can tell me. Or maybe you don't remember."

Something changed in her expression, like a decision had been made. Face calm, eyes, fixed to his, she reached out and closed the laptop. "No, sir. I'm not like Pauline, or even like Ben. My family was born into the corporation."

Race tried to control his reaction as his gut clenched. "Do tell," he said.

"I don't know what you know," she said, wrinkling her eyebrows. "I mean, you obviously know something."

"Pretend I know nothing, Kathleen. Tell me what I need to know."

She looked away and sighed. "This could get my family into a lot of trouble. Not like it could for the others, but still." She turned back and looked into his face. "The corporation is an autonomous entity separate from national governments. We operate independently, providing goods and services for anyone who can afford them."

This was worse than he'd imagined, and better maybe. "Go on."

"My great-grandfather was one of the founding members. We provide a wide variety of services, but of late our focus has been on research and development. I'm not sure why Dr. Quest was selected for recruitment, he doesn't really fit the profile."

"How so?"

She shrugged. "He's a well known public figure. Mostly the people we take are on the fringes. People that won't be missed, people whose lives aren't allowing them to live up to their potential."

"So what do they want with him?"

"They want him to work for them. Everyone we take is brought into the corporation one way or another."

"So why did they kill Jonny?"

"Jonny's not dead!" she exclaimed. "Killing him would defeat the purpose."

"The purpose?"

She looked down at her hands. "I was raised to think that this was they way things should be, that it was all for the good of the corporation." She sighed. "Kids and their parents were brought in, and if the parents didn't cooperate, the kids would get hurt." Race felt himself tense. She looked up nervously, as if she sensed his reaction. "Just a little at first, and usually it was enough. Their parents would start working, and eventually they would assimilate. The kids would be tested to see what their aptitudes were and guided into fields of study that most suited them and the corporation."

"Usually?" Race asked.

"Sometimes people would be stubborn. Or they'd get stubborn when they were told to do something they didn't want to do."

"And then what would happen?"

For a moment, she was silent, and he thought she wasn't going to answer. "When I was ten, a family was brought in. They had three children, a girl who was my age and twin boys who were about six. Cynthia and I got to be friends. Her parents were in medical research. I don't know what happened, what changed, but there was something. Cynthia started missing school, and when she did come in, she was really quiet. One time she came in with a broken arm." Race had to remind himself to breathe. What were they asking Benton to do? What was happening to Jonny? "When I asked her what was wrong, she wouldn't tell me. Then she stopped coming in to school altogether, and I went to her parents' quarters to see what was wrong." Kathleen's eyes had darkened so that they looked like glittering emeralds. "She was dead, and one of the little boys had a bad bruise on his upper arm." She cleared her throat. "After that, nothing happened to the twins, but her parents were always serious, and they didn't talk much to each other anymore."

She fell silent again, and finally Race said, "And?"

"I asked my mother about it when I was older. She said that they hadn't cooperated, and that Cynthia had paid the price. That the corporation had to look out for its interests." She shook her head. "I was fifteen, and I didn't think it made sense. But you don't question the corporation." Giving him a serious look, she said, "Pauline was, I don't know, six or seven when her parents were recruited. She was in a different unit from me when we were kids, but when we both turned out to be unusually gifted in the sciences, we wound up in the same classes a lot. She's brilliant, amazingly so. When kids are that smart, the corporation likes to get them an outside education, but they almost never send out someone who's in the first generation. Ben was born in the corporation, and his parents didn't mind so much. Matt's grandfather was brought in when Matt's father was eight or nine, and he volunteered. Pauline is different. When it was decided that she would go to an outside university, she was taken away from school for a while. When she came back, she was different. Quieter, more serious. And she never talked about what happened while she was gone. That was when she was fourteen, and I was seventeen. I went away to college the next year, but from what I hear, she was taken away for three weeks every year. I don't know what they did, but she's the only first generation kid ever allowed out of the corporation that I've ever heard of."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"I've been in college for five years now, and no one else from home is at MIT right now. I guess maybe I've been contaminated, but I've read a lot of books, and seen a lot of movies, and I know that things out here are different than they are in there. Only one of my friends ever had any of her friends die when they were little, and she grew up in East L.A." She shrugged. "After September 11th, there was a lot of stuff all over the place about terrorism and weapons of mass destruction. I know for a fact that my father has been part of a research project that was developing a nerve agent."

Race put that information aside for now, aware that this interview was being recorded. "Will you tell me what happened when you folks abducted them?"

"Well, Dr. Quest was caught immediately, but Jonny was harder to find. I was on a team that was going out to search the grounds, but then we heard a ruckus on the wall. One of the guys tried to grab him, and Jonny was knocked off the wall. He fell into a bush, and," she shuddered. "He was hurt pretty bad. We got him stitched up, and then we took them to the boat."

There was a sudden beeping as his phone rang. Reaching into his pocket, he stood up and opened the door. "Diana, take this and answer it," he said, handing the phone out, and went back to sit with Kathleen. "Please go on, Kathleen."

"We traveled out to sea a fair distance to get to one of our planes. Dr. Quest and Jonny were taken aboard, and we got them situated. Then the man who was in charge of the operation came back on the boat with us, the six of us who'd rented it." She took a deep breath. "He was very angry that the boy had been hurt. No one's supposed to be injured in these operations. You've been asking where Steve and Molly went. Steve was the one who tried to grab Jonny. He – he was shot. Molly went into hysterics, and had to be sedated and taken back home. The other four of us took the boat back and . . . we just did what we were told to do. Made like we were taking a vacation in Canada."

"Where did they take them?" Race asked.

"I don't know." He snorted skeptically. "Really, I don't. It wasn't my part of the operation."

"Surely you could guess."

"Even if I could, I don't know where any of the bases actually are. We're always flown in and out. The only people who know how to get to them are the pilots, and they're never allowed to leave the planes when they're in the field. All I know for sure was that it was a few hours flight to get where they were going, and I only know that because that's what somebody told me to tell Dr. Quest."

"I see." Race stood up. He needed some time to digest this incredible story, and discuss it with the others and with Phil. "Excuse me, Kathleen."

He left the room and shut the door behind him, leaning back against it. Diana was waiting, his phone closed in her hand. "What do you make of that?" he asked.

"We've already got confirmation on some of it," she said, her eyes showing her to be somewhat ill at ease. The other two stood nearby in silence.

"What?"

"That was Phil. The satellite footage shows the boat meeting a plane. They haven't gotten much further than that, though. He thought he should bring you up to date as soon as he had any information at all, he said."

"Good. Did you pass on any of what you heard?"

She shook her head. "I just told him you'd have a lot to tell him when you called him." She stared in the window at Kathleen. "Do you believe it?"

"I don't know how much of it I believe. It fits my deductions, though."

"She was trying to protect Pauline," Thomas said.

"Yeah, I noticed that," Race agreed.

"And she didn't give you any names that we don't already have," Thomas added.

"Nope." Race shook his head. "That's one hell of a story. Can you get a copy of that tape and send it to Phil somehow?"

"That could take hours," Kiley said, sounding kind of numb.

Race wrinkled his brow. "No, get the tape, I'm sure either Hadji or Jessie can somehow transfer it into a file that they can send by e-mail."

"Right." Thomas walked off quickly and Race went through the others to the conference room and sat down. Diana walked up and handed him his phone. "Thanks." Dialing the number, he got through to Phil.

"Corvin here."

"One of the kids finally talked. She says they're part of something she just calls 'the corporation.' I'm going to try to get Jessie to compress the audio of the interview and send it to you by e-mail." There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Corvin?" He could hear the sound of breathing, so the connection hadn't been broken. "Phil?"

"Did you say 'the corporation'?" Phil said finally.


	11. On the Move

Benton and Jonny sat cuddled together on the bed, watching an episode of Lassie. Bandit was jumping around in front of the screen, barking excitedly. Benton laughed at the little dog, amused by his antics. Jonny looked up at him and said, "Maybe we should get copies of this when we get home. Bandit seems to love it."

"He does, doesn't he?"

"We could leave it going while I'm at school so he has something to do," Jonny said.

"You want your dog to be a couch potato?" Benton asked teasingly.

"No!" Jonny exclaimed. "He'd be a floor potato. Or maybe a bed potato."

Benton chuckled. "He has plenty to do while you're at school, Jonny. He chases butterflies and birds and squirrels, and anything else that has the audacity to come into range." Jonny laughed, and Benton was glad to see it. "I was thinking it would be a good form of entertainment for the rest of us."

"Yeah. Jessie would love it!" Jonny was grinning as he spoke, but the grin faded as the words sank in. "And Hadji would make some remark about entertainment for the masses," he added, sighing.

"Yes," Benton agreed. "And I would probably walk in around then and be completely clueless about what the rest of you were talking about."

"I don't think you're quite as clueless as you pretend, Dad." Jonny grinned up at him. "I think you do a lot of that to tease us."

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," Benton said, shrugging.

Jonny rolled his eyes. "Daaaaaad," he groaned.

There was a knock at the door, causing both of them to stiffen. Benton rose and walked over. "Yes?" he called.

The door opened and he saw that Dr. Pascale was there with Patricia who was carrying a tray of food that he presumed was their dinner. He stepped back dubiously, allowing them to enter. "What can we do for you, Dr. Pascale?"

"I would like to see what state Crandall left your son in. From what Patricia tells me, he was –" She stopped speaking abruptly, looking at the boy who had stood up on the other side of the bed. "My God, that's dreadful. Come here, boy."

Jonny backed away against the wall and Benton stepped across her path. "I think Jonny's had quite enough of your 'corporate policies' today."

"That isn't –" Pascale stopped looking over his shoulder and looked at him. "I'm going to put a stop to this. Crandall is out of line and will be dealt with."

Benton took the tray from Patricia. "I'll believe that when I see it. We were promised the rest of the day alone, without interference. So if you please. . ." He nodded toward the door. Sighing irritably, Pascale left, but Patricia hesitated. He raised his eyebrows at her and she left, looking very unhappy. He turned back to Jonny with the tray in his hands.

"Do you think she's lying?" Jonny asked, limping back over to the bed. "She really did sound mad."

Benton was struck anew by how horrific the injuries to Jonny's face appeared. His left eye was swollen closed, and his lips – how could he stand to talk? Benton put the tray down and walked around the bed, pulling Jonny gently into his arms.

"Dad?" Jonny said. "Dad, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I love you, Jonny."

"I love you, too, Dad," Jonny said, hugging him and patting him worriedly on the back.

Benton realized that he was alarming his son and pulled away. "So, are you ready for chicken stir fry?"

"I am kind of hungry," Jonny said. They settled down on the bed to eat. Benton wasn't about to suggest they shift into the sitting room, not after what took place there earlier. He hoped that Pascale really did have the power to eject Crandall. The thought of her trying made him nervous, however. Crandall wasn't a man to take being crossed lightly.

Jonny started eating gingerly. When his own stomach rumbled, Benton realized that he had only been picking at the meals that had been set before him, and he couldn't even remember what Crandall had fed him for lunch. He sighed, watching his son feed Bandit a sliver of chicken. If he could get his hands on Crandall, or that Marcus, he would – he would –

Benton closed his eyes. Race had never failed them, and Benton didn't believe he would start now.

* * *

Race was silent for a moment. Then he spoke in a quiet, dangerous voice. "Yes, Corvin, I said 'the corporation.' Why? Does it mean something to you?"

Diana, who was standing across the conference table from him, sank into a chair, her hand to her mouth, eyes wide.

"Are you saying this girl said that the corporation took Benton and Jonny?" Corvin said in voice that sounded stiff with shock.

"Yes, Corvin, I am. What in the hell do you know about this 'corporation,' Phil? I need to know."

"Well, it might conceivably be worse," Corvin said. "They could have been kidnapped by aliens and taken several light years out into space."

"Phil, this is serious."

"So am I. We've been trying to track them for fifteen years, and we've made absolutely no progress."

"Well, we've got four members of it right here," Race said sourly. "I'd call that progress."

"Race, get me that interview tape now. This could be the break we've been –"

"Phil, I'm a little focused on finding Benton and Jonny here. I'll get you that tape, but don't you go haring off on some tangent about another case."

"It's the same case, Race. They're related."

"Would you please fax or e-mail or whatever – get me all the info you have on this 'corporation' pronto." He paused, taking in a deep breath. "Think about it. They've got Benton and Jonny. If they're threatening Jonny to get Benton to work for them – that kid is reckless."

"Jose's already on it. Hadji and Jessie should have the files coming up in their e-mail now."

"Thanks. Now, is there any more news about this plane?"

"Beyond that it headed south, not yet."

"Well, I'll keep questioning these kids, who knows, one of them may drop something useful," Race said, standing up.

"Race, I have a radical suggestion," Corvin said. "Have you got any idea what time it is?"

Race shrugged and glanced at his watch. "Half past eleven."

"How much sleep did you get last night."

"I don't know, three or four hours."

"And Hadji?"

"He –" Race pulled his words up short and sighed. "I get your point, Phil."

"Take the kids somewhere they can sleep, and get some rest yourself. You won't do Benton and Jonny any good if you wear yourself out."

"Right. I know."

"Do I have to make it an order? Because I will if I have to."

"Cut it out, Phil. I'll take the kids to a motel."

"Good. I'll call you in the morning, whether there's news or not."

Race hung up the phone and looked up at Diana. "Do you know of a good motel around here?"

She smiled. "Sure. I'm glad he persuaded you. Estella was planning on coming in here with a crowbar at midnight and dragging you out by your hair."

Race snorted. "Well, we can't have that."

He went out into the waiting room and looked at the kids. Jessie was typing madly on Hadji's computer, and Hadji was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall and snoring. Estella saw him emerge, Jessie's laptop in one hand, his cell phone in the other, and said, "Dare I hope you're planning on going to bed?"

"Yup," he said shortly, pocketing the phone and handing the computer to Jessie. Bending, he scooped Hadji into his arms. He had certainly gotten long over the past couple of years, but Race managed to carry him out to the car and sit him in the backseat. Carrying both laptops in their cases, Jessie climbed in beside him and buckled him into his seat. Estella climbed in beside her, and Race, after starting to climb into the driver's seat, allowed himself to be guided around to the passenger side by Diana.

They checked into two motel rooms. For safety's sake, Diana, Estella and Jessie would share one, and Race and Hadji would share the other. Race started to pick the boy up, but he woke up. "I can climb a few stairs," he said when Race offered to help him. Nevertheless, Race kept an arm around his shoulders.

When they reached the room, Race kicked off his shoes, suddenly realizing just how tired he really was. Hadji went straight to the bathroom, but Race just pulled off his shirt and pants and climbed into one of the beds. After a few moments, he felt the bed shift. He glanced over and saw that Hadji, turban removed, had climbed into the bed beside him. The room had two beds, but Race didn't mind. Hadji had to be more than a little scared.

"Good night, Race," Hadji said quietly, reaching out to turn off the light.

"Good night, Hadji," Race replied, reaching out and tousling the black hair. "Everything's going to be okay." Hadji smiled and turned the switch.

Benton remained awake in the dark for a while after Jonny had fallen asleep, thinking about their situation. He would have to do whatever Crandall asked of him. He couldn't risk anything more happening to his son, and he certainly couldn't count on Dr. Pascale to prevent Crandall from going further. For all he knew, it was a 'good cop, bad cop' ploy in any case.

When Jonny whimpered in his sleep, Benton stroked his hair worriedly. He had to sleep, he knew that. He was going to be expected to work in the morning, and if he was too sleepy, he knew who would pay the price. Sliding down in the bed, he closed his eyes and forced himself to think calm thoughts. Sleep was slow in coming, but eventually he slipped off.

It seemed like only moments later when there was an almighty pounding on the door. Benton leapt to his feet, flipped on the lights and looked at his watch. Four-thirty in the morning, and it wasn't as if he could open the damned door. He glanced back to see Jonny cowering on the bed, clearly terrified.

Bandit leapt off the bed and started barking at the closed door. Benton grabbed him. That dog had no concept of how small he really was, and Jonny was liable to do something idiotic if someone harmed or even threatened him.

A second later, the door was flung open and Crandall came in with his goons. He seemed almost incandescent with rage. "I'd say good morning, Dr. Quest, but it isn't one. It seems we underestimated that Bannon fellow."

Benton felt a chill feather through his gut, and Bandit started squirming. He squeezed the little dog more firmly against his chest. "What do you plan to do?"

"We're moving you," Crandall said, and Benton sighed in relief, reflecting that it could have been much worse. Then the dark-haired medic from the house came in, and Benton stared at her in surprise. "The plane is here. You have to be sedated for transport."

Jonny came up behind him, putting an arm around his waist. "I'd rather remain conscious if that's possible," Benton said in as calm a voice as he could muster under the circumstances.

Crandall gestured with two fingers and Marcus moved swiftly forward, seizing Jonny by the arm and dragging him away from him. Jonny tried to hang on, and so did Benton, but Chris raised his rifle, pointing it not at him but at his son. Benton released the boy instantly. The medic looked slightly stunned, but she didn't speak.

Crandall smiled at him. "It's all the same to me if young Jonathon is sedated or if I knock him out myself. Which will it be, Dr. Quest?" Benton didn't speak, he just started rolling up his sleeve. "Good man, you do learn, eventually." Benton clenched his teeth.

"Let go!" Jonny cried, trying to pull away from Marcus' grip. "You're hurting me!"

Crandall turned his glare on Jonny, but Benton stepped forward. "Please don't be angry with him," he said. "He's –" Chris raised his rifle in his direction, and Benton stopped, his hands balling into fists. He didn't think they'd shoot him, but he didn't dare take the risk.

The villain ignored Benton as if he hadn't spoken. "I distinctly recall telling you, boy, not to speak unless you were asked a direct question." Jonny froze, like a deer in headlights. "Do you remember me saying that?" Jonny nodded. "I can't hear you!"

Benton started forward again, but Chris pulled back the bolt on his rifle. Benton stopped dead.

"Yes, sir," Jonny said in a high, clear voice, his eyes wide with fear.

"So, you aren't going to speak out of turn again, are you?"

"No, sir," Jonny replied. Benton wanted to strangle Crandall for frightening Jonny so badly. The medic looked frankly appalled, and Benton began to wonder if Dr. Pascale and Patricia weren't telling the truth that this behavior was beyond the pale even for their operation.

"Fine. Marcus, let him go back to his father." Marcus let go of Jonny's arm, and he shot across the room to Benton's side. "You, sedate them."

"No, sir," the medic said, her mouth set in a firm line.

Crandall whipped around furiously. "What did you say?" he demanded in a soft, dangerous voice.

"I said, no," she said in a calm clear tone. "Sir. Respectfully. Look at the boy, he can't be sedated in that condition."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"He could have a concussion. I can't sedate him. He's no good as a hostage if he's dead."

"Our doctor checked him out last night. He's fine." Benton blinked. That certainly hadn't been what Pascale had said to _him_.

"No, sir. I can't sedate him. You'll have to blindfold them."

"You can sedate the father, can't you?"

"No, sir. The boy will need someone to take care of him."

"Fine, then _I'll_ take care of him," Crandall snapped.

Jonny made a small sound of pain, and Benton realized that he'd gripped his son's injured shoulder too tightly. But Jonny didn't pull away. Bandit started whimpering, and Benton squeezed the dog to quiet him.

"That's not really feasible, sir," the medic said. "He'll need his father, and it will keep the father busy." Crandall just glared at her, not relenting, and Benton started taking deep breaths. "I have the authority to demand this, sir."

"Fine!" Crandall spat. "Marcus, Chris, take them." The medic moved a shade faster and put an arm around the two of them. "I'll get them to the plane, Mr. Crandall. If you feel your guards are necessary, they can come along."

Benton walked out of the room almost willingly with this unexpected guardian angel. She took them into the hall and out into a larger room that they hadn't seen before where there were others who had been in on their capture. He found it quite alarming to discover that he was glad to see them now.

Some of them turned to stare open-mouthed at Jonny. Clearly, they had not expected to see him in this state. Benton didn't know what to think.

"All right, Dr. Quest, Jonny, please stop here for a moment." They complied, and, after beckoning to an angel-faced young man, the woman pulled a couple of ace bandages from her medical bag. "I'm going to wrap these around your eyes, and then Andrew and I will guide you onto the plane."

Jonny clutched at him, but Benton stroked his back reassuringly, though he himself felt anything but reassured as the medic began winding the makeshift blindfold around his eyes.

Race was clearly on their trail or Crandall wouldn't have said what he did. He kept that thought firmly in mind, that Race had them on the run. As they were led forward to the plane, he kept one arm around Jonny's shoulder and the other holding Bandit tightly.

He heard whispered exclamations around them for a few moments, then the sound of a door opening. Several steps later, the medic said, "We're starting up a ramp now." They walked onto the plane under her calm, confident guidance. Finally, Benton heard a panel open before them and then close behind them, and the medic said, "We're here. Let's get those blindfolds off you now."

She rapidly unwrapped the bandages and Benton saw that they were in a compartment that was twin to the one they'd flown here in, always assuming it wasn't the same one. Jonny looked around nervously, not moving away from his father's side. Benton took Jonny across to the fixed bed and got him settled with his injured leg outstretched, putting Bandit down beside him.

Then he turned back to the medic. "Thank you," he said. "Where are Marcus and Chris?"

"Outside the door," she replied, giving him a rueful smile that he didn't return. "Do you need anything, Dr. Quest? An ice pack or –"

"That might not hurt," Benton said. She nodded and left, bringing the ice back in a few minutes later.

"It will be about fifteen more minutes till we take off," she said. "There are fruit cups and juice in the refrigerator if you're hungry."

As she turned to go, Benton took a step forward. "Why are we being moved?" he asked.

She turned back and gave him another rueful smile. "That's only an intake facility, sir," she said. "There are no decent lab facilities."

"Is that the only reason?" Benton asked quickly before she could leave.

Pursing her lips, she sighed. "It's the only reason I'm permitted to give you, Dr. Quest. I'm sorry." Her eyes echoed that emotion and Benton shrugged. She turned to go and he didn't try to delay her any further. Perhaps wherever they were going, Crandall would not be in charge. He went back to the bed and sat down with Jonny and Bandit. Both boy and dog were unusually subdued. Bandit, always sensitive to tension, was cuddled up close to Jonny's leg, offering what comfort he could.

"I don't think Dr. Pascale got him taken off the project," Jonny said after a moment.

Benton sighed. "It doesn't seem likely, does it?"

"What are we going to do?" Jonny asked.

"Whatever we have to, son."

Jonny was silent for a moment, then he turned his head and looked into his father's eyes. "If you get a chance to escape, Dad, don't let me slow you down. Just go."

Benton looked down at his son's earnest face in complete astonishment. "I can't do that, Jonny," he said at last.

"But, Dad –"

Benton shook his head. "No buts, Jonny. I could never leave you in this situation." Jonny opened his mouth, but Benton put a hand very gently on his cheek. "That's final, my boy. We're getting out of here together." He pulled a blanket down from the overhead compartment. "Now, get some sleep. It looks like we may have a long day ahead of us."


	12. Race's Race

At seven o'clock in the morning, Race's phone rang shrilly, causing both Hadji and Race to start awake. Race reached down to where he'd dropped his pants on the floor and fumbled the cell phone out of his pocket. "Bannon," he said gruffly.

"We have a possible lead, Race," Corvin said without preamble.

"A lead? What?"

"Can you and your team be out at the airstrip at Truman and ready to go in an hour?"

"I'm sure we'll manage, sir. What's the lead?"

"The airplane landed on an island in the Carribean. Get moving." Race was on his feet and fumbling his pants on before Phil hung up his phone.

"Hadji, get dressed and ready to go." He hit the speed dial for Estella's phone while he pulled his shirt on and buttoned it up.

"Hello?" she said brightly. Estella always had been good at mornings, Race pondered disgustedly.

"We need to get going. Corvin just called with a lead and we need to be back at the airstrip in an hour."

"Meet you downstairs in ten minutes."

True to her word, Estella, Diana and Jessie were in the parking lot when he and Hadji finished the checking out. They all piled into the vehicle with Diana driving again, since she knew the area better than he did. Race found himself wishing that this car could sprout wings.

* * *

Benton couldn't sleep. He'd managed to lull Jonny off to sleep with one of the lullabies his mother used to sing to him, but he himself sat awake, unable to relax enough for rest. He found himself wishing that the plane would crash into the ocean and forced his mind elsewhere, very alarmed by the nihilistic turn his thoughts were taking. Death wasn't preferable. Alive, they could still be rescued. Dead, and it – well, it didn't bear thinking about.

He had the lights dimmed so Jonny could sleep, which meant he couldn't read. Benton started to contemplate the least alarming of the projects he had before him, the miniaturization of night vision technology, and tried to come up with alternate ways to go about it that George hadn't tried.

No one had said how long this flight would be, and, as he had no clear idea of where their starting point was, he couldn't begin to guess where they were headed. It could be the North Pole, it could be Borneo. He had no facts with which to hypothesize. He wished he had a compass in this watch, but, snorting, he reflected that if he'd had a compass, it would likely have been confiscated by now.

The door opened a crack, letting a sliver of light in. Benton sat up straighter. "Yes?" he said quietly. "Who is it?"

The door opened wider and the white haired man who'd seemed to be in charge of the original capture walked in, shutting it behind him. "My name is Martin, Dr. Quest. I have some questions." Bandit rolled over suddenly and got to his feet, growling low in his throat.

Benton thumped his head back against the wall, dropping his hand onto Bandit's head to quiet him. "What do you want to know?" he asked.

"I'm here to try and understand what's been happening. What I've heard is exceptionally alarming."

"What have you heard?" Benton asked.

"Patricia came to me and told me that Crandall is punishing your son even when you are doing what you're told. Is that so?"

Benton clenched his teeth. "Every time he 'punished' Jonny, I was cooperating, or trying to cooperate. Every time!" He shook his head. "What of it?"

"That's not the way things are done."

"Somebody evidently forgot to tell Crandall that." Benton drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "I keep hearing that this isn't they way things are supposed to work, but all I can see is that my son has already nearly died once because Crandall is a sadist who enjoys torturing small children."

Martin shook his head. "This has to stop."

"I agree," Benton said. "Why don't you send us home? Then it will most definitely stop."

"If I did that, the corporation would only come after you again. It would be counterproductive." He shook his head. "No, the key is to make the best of the situation, here in the corporation."

Jonny stirred, not really waking. He shifted so that he had his arms around Benton's waist, and his head in his lap. Benton rested his hand on the golden hair. "I see. The trouble is, I don't think Crandall will allow that. I'm afraid that there's nothing I can do that will satisfy the man. That no matter what I do, he'll just keep on hurting Jonny." Benton closed his eyes and tried desperately to master himself. "In two days, he's dug his fingers into the stitches in Jonny's leg, popping three of them and re-opening the wound." Martin's eyes widened, and Benton realized the other man hadn't known the details of that event. "Incidentally, I wasn't even present for that. Crandall said it was to make Jonny take the situation seriously. Well, he takes it seriously now, all right; he almost bled to death."

Martin was shaking his head. "That is unbelievably unacceptable behavior."

"Oh, but that's just the beginning," he said, keeping his voice as quiet as his intense emotions would permit him to. "Immediately after that, he dragged Jonny down the hallway with his arm held so high that he couldn't stand or walk properly. There are black bruises on his upper arm in the shape of a handprint! Meanwhile, the boy is starting to bleed, and nobody notices." Benton felt his outrage dwindle. "Not even me." The guilt he felt washed over him, and he lowered his head, looking down at his son's head. Hot tears started trickling down his face. He brought a hand up, as if mopping his brow, to conceal the emotional reaction.

"I will be making a full report at headquarters. This will be stopped."

Benton let out a low, mirthless laugh. "Right. But will it be in time? It will be no consolation to me and no help to you if you stop him after Jonny's –" He couldn't finish the sentence. He didn't want to say it aloud, and he certainly didn't want Jonny to hear.

"I can't take direct action. I have no authority in this area."

Benton lowered his voice even further. "You could call Jonny's bodyguard. Race Bannon, I'm sure you know who he is."

"That would be going against the corporation," Martin said. "I couldn't do that. I have children of my own." Benton blinked at that information. "I will take this information back to headquarters and they will deal with it."

Benton shook his head. "You might as well pronounce a death sentence on his head." Martin pursed his lips, looking dubious. "It's a corporation. Run, presumably, by a board?" Martin nodded and Benton grimaced. "Bureaucracy, the enemy of decisive action."

"They do take decisive action when it's called for."

"By majority vote," Benton said colorlessly. "On your head be it, Martin. If you will do nothing, on your head be it." He leaned closer to the man. "If Jonny is killed, do you think they'll send you or someone else after my other son?"

Martin's brows knit. "What other son?"

"Crandall knows about him," Benton said wryly. "Hadji, my adopted son. Who is out there right now, not certain what has happened to his father and his brother. It's cruel beyond –" Benton broke off, trying not to think too hard about Hadji, who was undoubtedly contemplating some insane and risky course of action at that very moment. "And I have been assured that if Jonny dies, the corporation will fetch Hadji to ensure my cooperation."

There was a long moment of silence, then Martin stood up. "I will take care of this, Dr. Quest."

Benton leaned his head back against the wall and ignored his assurances. Martin left, and Benton found himself unable to think past the image of Crandall beating Jonny senseless and beyond. And then starting on Hadji. He couldn't make up his mind which would irritate Crandall more. Jonny's defiant nature, or Hadji's placid patience.

* * *

They landed in Washington at 9:20 a.m., and Corvin met them at the plane with a van. Quickly unloading their luggage and equipment, they piled into the van with Phil driving and Race riding shotgun. "Where are we headed?" he asked.

"It's a little island called Isla Flora."

"Hot damn!" Race exclaimed. "When do we leave?"

"Almost immediately," Corvin said. "But restrain yourself. They've almost certainly been moved, assuming they were there in the first place."

"What do you mean?" Hadji asked from the back seat. Race could see from his expression that Phil hadn't considered the boy's presence when he'd started speaking.

"We have seen evidence of a mass departure."

"Have they somehow been warned of our pursuit?" Hadji asked.

Phil flushed, and Race could see the anger in his face. "It was leaked to the press that Dr. Quest's kidnappers were arrested in Canada."

Race stared out the windshield blankly, furious that some news hound had let the warning through. They might have reached them today but for that. "What's the plan?"

"I've got two squads of special forces operatives ready and waiting on a C-130 the other side of the airfield. All that has to be determined now is who is going."

Race raised his eyebrows. Trust Phil to find the most direct way of addressing a problem. An over-abundance of tact wasn't one of Corvin's failings.

"Won't we all be going" Jessie asked.

Race turned in his seat and looked at the hopeful faces of the two kids behind him. "I'm afraid not, Ponchita."

"Why not?" she demanded. Hadji was silent, but Race knew that he was just letting Jessie front for him till he knew what he was going to have to argue against. They pulled to a stop near the C-130 where Race could see that the loading of supplies and equipment was just finishing up. Corvin turned around to face the kids himself.

"It's a basic problem of how to apply our forces most effectively, Jessie," he said. "You and Hadji have made a bigger dent in tracking the corporation in twelve hours than my folks have in ten years."

Jessie glared, but it was Hadji who spoke. "You do not wish to put us in danger," he said simply.

"True enough."

"There's more to it, though, Hadji," Race said. "These people operate by threatening the children of those they want to control." Estella's eyes widened and Race saw the look she threw at Jessie. "They've already shown interest in you, and we don't want you any closer to them than is strictly necessary."

Hadji looked at the troops that were boarding the plane. "I will stay behind," he said thoughtfully. "We do not usually have soldiers, and certainly not so many."

Race smiled and reached out to grip his shoulder. Then he got out of the van and went to the back to offload his and Diana's bags. Jessie scrambled out and followed him impatiently. "What about me?" she asked.

"I need you to stay with Hadji, Jess." Her brows knit together, and he could see that she was torn in two directions. On the one hand, she wanted to help save Jonny and Dr. Quest, but clearly she knew that Hadji needed her, too. "He's scared and he's lonely, and he doesn't know Phil all that well."

"I know, but . . ."

"And I haven't been able to give him the attention he needs right now. Please, Jessie, he needs your support."

Jessie nodded, though he could tell it was frustrating for her to have to stay behind. He understood her reaction better than she knew. Putting hand on the top of her head, he grinned down at her. "I'm depending on you, Ponchita, to keep his spirits up." She grinned up at him half-heartedly. "And to break into as many government systems as you can to get all the information we're going to need." Her grin widened and he winked at her. Then he lifted the bags and turned to find a young staff sergeant behind him. The boy reached out for the bags, and Race let him take them.

Diana was talking to Corvin, and Estella had walked over to put an arm around Jessie's shoulders, giving Race a grateful look. He was going to have to have a chat with Estella about Jessie sometime soon, but not right now. Hadji was standing staring at the plane disconsolately.

Race walked over and stood beside him. After a moment, Hadji said, "I understand the reasoning for why you are leaving me behind." He sighed. "It does not make it any easier, however."

"I know." He put his hand on Hadji's back. "I'm worried about them, too, Hadj."

The boy leaned in against his side and Race put his arm around his shoulders. "I do not like seeing you go off without me, either, Race," he said quietly. "Not that I am worried," he added quickly. "I know you can take care of yourself."

Race squeezed Hadji's shoulders. "I gotta do this, Hadji."

He nodded. "I will find whatever information I can. And I will keep Jessie out of trouble."

Race gave him a big hug. "And stay out of trouble yourself, young man. I don't want to come back and find Corvin in a nervous collapse."

Hadji gave him a weak grin. "I will try." Race looked up to see Estella watching him. She gave him a reassuring smile and a look that told him plain as day that she would watch over both of the kids while he was gone. He gave her an answering grin, which faded as a thought occurred to him.

In Benton's absence, he was Jonny and Hadji's legal guardian, a fact that made I-1 none too happy. The department, with the possible exception of Phil Corvin, considered it a conflict of interest. No doubt it was, but neither he nor Benton gave a rat's ass. However, should something happen to him, and they failed to retrieve Benton, Hadji would have no declared guardian. Giving Hadji's shoulders another squeeze, he walked over to Phil.

"Have you got any paper?" he asked. Blinking, Phil nodded and pulled a briefcase out of the van. Race opened it on the back of a nearby jeep and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. Scribbling something out rapidly, he called out, "Estella?"

Leaving Jessie with Hadji, she walked over to Race's side. "What is it, Race? I could see from your expression a minute ago that you'd thought of something alarming."

"Does this work for you, Estella?" he asked, handing her the paper.

She scanned it quickly and lifted her eyebrow. "How can you grant me Hadji's guardianship, Race?"

"What?" Phil said, immediately looking at the document over Estella's shoulder. Annoyed by his proximity, Estella handed the page to him. "He's both boys' guardian in Benton's absence," he said as he looked it over.

"Or in the event of his death," Race said. Estella's eyebrows rose.

"And you want me –"

"That's a point I hadn't considered," Race said suddenly, snatching the paper from Phil. Swiftly, he wrote an addendum on the bottom to include Jonny, then signed and dated it. "Are you willing, Stell?" he asked.

"Of course, but would Dr. Quest –"

"They know you, Stell, and they'd be with Jessie." He shrugged. "And they don't really have anybody else besides Doug, and he's seventy-four."

"Right," Estella said, then bent to sign the paper. Race took it from her and handed it on to Phil.

"You'd better sign it, too, as a witness." Sighing, Phil did so and tucked it away.

"Don't make me need to pull this out, Race," he said warningly. Estella nodded fervently.

"It's always better to be prepared, because sure as shooting, the minute you're not is when you needed to be." Phil grimaced, but didn't disagree. "So, who's in charge of this ball game?" he asked.

"You are," Corvin said much to Race's surprise. "Though I'd advise you to defer to Major Norton when it comes to deployment. After all, he knows these boys and girls better than you do."

"Of course. But I have the final say when it comes to things like shooting at the bad guys, right?"

"Right."

"And Norton knows it?"

"Indeed he does," said a voice behind him. Race turned to see a blond man of about thirty-five, short but sturdily built. "I've heard of your reputation, Bannon," he said, grinning. "I wish we could work together in a less critical circumstance. 'Course when my outfit gets together like this, it's always a critical situation, so that seems unlikely."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Major," Race said.

"Race, this is Major Todd Norton."

"So, shall we dance?" Norton asked.

"Yes, but I get to lead," Race said and walked off toward the plane.

When they were aboard, Norton settled down next to Race and shouted over the engine noise. "So, who're the two kids?"

"My daughter, and Dr. Quest's son, Hadji."

"He doesn't look much like the pictures we have of the other two," Norton said.

"He's adopted."

"Ah." Norton was silent a moment, then said, "They looked like they'd prefer to be joining us. They going to do covert ops when they're grown?"

"They're already doing covert ops, minus the guns, quite effectively, thank you."

"Are they?"

"They've saved my tail a time or two."

"You let them get involved in your operations?"

Race snorted. "It would take a small army to stop them, and I don't have one. They're great kids, all three of them, very obedient. Except when 'higher moral considerations' get involved."

"'Higher moral considerations,' huh? Is that a quote?"

"From Hadji, yes. Jonny just says, 'but we had to,' and Jessie usually just glares or starts speaking computerese."

"Ah, yes. Computerese. My son speaks a mutant variety of the language, one I can't make heads or tails of."

"I'm not sure Bill Gates himself would understand Jessie when she gets going, or that he'd understand Hadji for that matter." He gave Norton a wry look. "If he could, they probably wouldn't have been able to break into his system."

"They're not responsible for all those freezes and crashes, are they?" Norton asked, sounding amused.

Race laughed. "No. According to them, they were looking to fix the problem, but apparently it would take too much time, and the next version would likely be out before they managed it."

"Right." From Norton's tone, Race gathered that he was humoring him, but Race just leaned back and contemplated their mission. He didn't feel any need to insist. It was better, overall, if folks underestimated the kids anyway.

After a while, Norton pulled out a map of the island. It wasn't very detailed, evidently no one had ever bothered to set down on the place and give it a close look. At least no one who later made a map. There were some high cliff formations and a large amount of vegetation. It looked a bit forbidding in the aerial photographs. Then he got a look at the one that showed where the plane landed. It splashed down in the water, then taxied into a cave under the cliffs.

"Where do you intend to set us down, Major?" Race asked.

"With your approval, around here on the other side of the island." Norton pointed at a spot that was well shielded from the cave entrance. "There have been two planes in and out of there in the last six hours, but we don't know how many people that leaves behind."

"Right. Have there been any reconnaissance flights yet?"

"A squadron of fighters from the base in Cuba have been doing 'maneuvers' nearby, keeping an eye on the place. They've seen no sign of anti-aircraft weaponry or, truthfully, much of anything."

"I'm not sure if that's good or not," Race mused.

"I doubt the subterfuge has convinced them that we're not watching the island, but we don't want to walk into a trap."

"Not hardly."


	13. Wishful Thinking

This flight was lasting considerably longer than the first one had. Benton wondered if they were circling somewhere, trying to get lost in other air traffic. Jonny woke up after a while, and Benton gave him some of the food from the refrigerator. They played several rounds of poker while Bandit slept, his head on Jonny's knee.

"Have you tried the door, Dad?" Jonny asked abruptly when they'd been playing awhile.

"It's locked."

"But have you tried it?"

"No, Jonny, I haven't. I didn't see much point."

Jonny slid off the bed, and Benton reached out to catch his arm, but hesitated, remembering those dark bruises. Bandit sat up blearily and scratched his ear. Jonny slipped past and tried the door. It didn't budge.

Hitting the panel with a fist, Jonny turned around and leaned back against it. "I thought maybe we could get to a radio, maybe get a message to someone. If Race is on our trail, maybe we could call him."

"I don't think we dare risk it, Jonny."

Jonny glared at him, crossing his arms across his chest. "It's because of Crandall, isn't it?" he asked bitterly.

"It's not just that, Jonny. There are a lot of people out there, and we're on a plane."

"But if we can get a message out, Race could find us faster."

There was a click as the door's lock was drawn back, and Jonny scrambled back across the room, leaning up against Benton, an arm clutched around his shoulders. Benton put his arm around his son's waist and squeezed. Bandit started barking ferociously at the door, and Benton caught his collar to hold him back. Jonny would not take it well if someone kicked his dog.

When this was over, Jonny was going to be dreadfully embarrassed by his reactions. Benton hoped he'd be able to reassure the boy that there was nothing wrong with him or with his behavior during this crisis.

The door opened, and the medic came in. Bandit kept barking at her, and she threw the little dog an amused glance. "I thought I'd better check on you gentlemen, to see how you were faring."

Benton raised an eyebrow. "I think we're fine." He looked at Jonny. "I think Jonny could probably use some more naproxen, but besides that, we're –"

"We want to go home!" Jonny declared suddenly, standing up very straight. "You people are horrible and my father isn't going to do anything you want!"

"Jonny!" Benton exclaimed sotto voce. "Not now!"

"I'll go get the naproxen," the woman said, her face creasing in sympathy. She shut the door and locked it again.

Jonny was silent for a minute, then he flung himself back at the door and started pounding on it, yelling incoherently. Bandit leapt off the bed and stood up on his hind legs, barking madly. Benton stood up and wrapped his arms around his son, pulling him back over to the bed. Jonny's flailing stopped and he clung to his father. Benton stroked his hair, murmuring reassurances into his ear. He got him to sit down and Bandit jumped up onto the boy's lap, leaning against his chest. Jonny put one hand on the dog's head, sniffling.

A few moments later the medic returned with a small plastic cup of the sort hospitals use to give patients their pills. Benton took it, and she gave them both a worried look. He waved her out, and she left, but he could tell she was concerned. _These people are psychotic,_ he thought.

After a time, he managed to get Jonny to take the pill, and his son looked up at him through red, teary eyes. "I'm pathetic," he said dejectedly. "I'm sorry, Dad, I don't know what's wrong with me." The swelling of his face made him look even more miserable.

Benton shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with you, Jonny," he said firmly, brushing the hair back out of his face. "Anyone would be reacting the same way."

"Hadji wouldn't!" Jonny said, not looking at him. Bandit sat up and licked away the tears that were streaming down Jonny's cheeks.

"He'd feel the same way you do, Jonny," Benton said. "There's nothing wrong with you, son."

"I want to go home!"

"Me, too."

"I miss Race and Jessie and Mrs. Evans, and especially Hadji."

Benton stroked his hair and said, "I know. I do, too."

Jonny scooped Bandit up and sat up next to his father, leaning close. Benton put his arms around him again and held him tightly, rocking a little. Bandit seemed to like being pressed in between them, but then he'd always liked to be cuddled.

"How long have we been in the air?" Jonny asked eventually.

"About six hours now," Benton replied. "I can't make any sense of our course without windows, but I think we've done a fair amount of circling. I get the feeling that they're trying to throw off pursuit."

"If Race is on our trail, they haven't got a chance," Jonny said.

Benton nodded, though there was a dubious voice niggling in his mind. They were rapidly closing on seventy-two hours since their initial capture, and the best hint that they had of pursuit was Crandall's half-paranoid ramblings about Race. The man was none too stable, and Benton found himself wondering if he wasn't just seizing on whatever excuse he could find to do damage to Jonny.

Martin had insisted that the corporation would take steps to deal with Crandall. He hoped Martin wasn't lying to him. Or indulging in wishful thinking.


	14. Empty Rooms

Race stood in the middle of yet another empty room. It was the sixth similar arrangement he'd found so far. The room wasn't technically empty, but there were no people present. It was a bedroom with both a bathroom and a sitting room attached. Both the bedroom and the sitting room had locking doors to the hallway. Locking, that is, from the outside. They were attractively decorated, pleasant rooms, which nevertheless had the air of prison cells.

The facility appeared to be abandoned. Any computers that had been left behind were useless due to a virus that had been introduced, no doubt by the fleeing members of the corporation. From the looks of things, they had been all too aware that this site had been located, and had taken every precaution they could to keep information out of the hands of their pursuers.

Race kicked the dresser and swore. Had Jonny and Benton been here or not?

A forensics team was already on the ground, having been sent to be ready if they were needed. He left the room without touching anything and found Major Norton in the hallway. "Bannon, I think you'd better see this." His face was deathly serious, and Race felt his pulse quicken with dread.

He followed the special ops commander into yet another of these bedrooms, where the bed had been stripped by the forensics team. A very dark brown stain about six inches in diameter discolored the mattress a little lower than midway down its length. One of the forensic scientists had the kit they used for DNA testing in his hands and Race could see that it had already been used.

Diana came in behind him. "Race, Major Nor–" she started, but she stopped abruptly when she saw the bed.

"Whose blood is it?" Race asked, surprised by the calm sound of his voice. He felt disconnected somehow, detached. It could be an old stain, from some previous event, but the way the soldiers and the forensics people were looking at him made that seem unlikely.

"Jonathon Quest's," the man said. Race stared at the brown stain, trying to divine just how much blood had been shed there. He was thankful that neither Jessie nor Hadji was present. They didn't need to see this. Hell, he didn't need to see this.

"But they have full medical facilities, Bannon," Major Norton said. "And from what we've been told about their SOP they wouldn't be likely to kill him."

"Yeah, well maybe their standard operating procedure has changed!" Race muttered.

One of the forensics guys lifted the mattress and let out a curse. Race could see that not only did the stain go all the way through, but it was wider on the bottom, if a bit patchy. He turned his back. Someone was in the bathroom that was attached to this room, and the door stood open. His eyes were riveted by the sight of scratch marks at the bottom of the panel. He walked over and squatted down, looking at the door.

"Bandit was in here," he said, breaking into a silence that he hadn't been aware of.

"The dog?" Norton asked, walking over to stand behind him.

Race nodded. "Those scratches are pretty fresh," he noted, still in that oddly detached voice. Diana was looking worriedly at him.

"Um," she said. "I was coming to get you because we found a body." Race's heart skipped a beat, and he shot to his feet, feeling the blood rush away from his face. "A woman's body," she added hastily.

"Where?" Norton asked.

"On the landing of a staircase leading to the surface. She appears to have fallen, but one of the forensics guys doesn't seem so sure." She shrugged. "I've got my doubts, too. She didn't die right away, and she left a message."

Once Race could breathe again, they headed to the spot where the body had been found. "Was she another victim?" he asked as they walked. "Another abductee?"

"Not recently for certain," Diana said. "I'm pretty sure she worked for the corporation."

Race nodded. They came around a corner, and he saw the forensics workers gathered around the body about eight steps up from the ground. She wore a white lab coat, and a pair of glasses rested upside down yet unbroken on the third step. There was a box containing medical supplies that had spilled and scattered across the floor and along the steps. One of the woman's arms was outstretched, and Race could see a pen fallen beside her hand.

"You said she'd left a message?"

"It's written on the concrete of the landing," Diana said.

Race could see that there was no room for him up there. "What does it say?" he asked.

"I don't remember exactly, but –"

One of the forensic techs looked up. "Hang on a minute, Bannon." He shifted so that he could see the writing. "Crandall insane – will kill the boy – fire the bastard."

Race froze. "How long has she been dead?"

"Rigor mortis is just setting in," said one of the other techs. "And the body isn't completely cold yet. I'd say it's been between three and four hours."

Race looked at Diana. "So within the last four hours, she believed that Jonny was still alive."

"That assumes that the boy the message refers to is Jonny."

Raising an eyebrow, he said, "I'd really prefer to think that there wasn't some other kid here being beaten to death." He closed his mouth with a snap, wishing he hadn't said that aloud.

"Right, pretend I didn't say that," Diana said. "It seems a safe assumption anyway."

"All right," one of the techs said, "flip her over. Let's see if there's any ID on the body." They did a quick search of the woman and came up with several items, placing them into clear plastic evidence bags and passing them down to Race who held up his hands for them. Several more pens, a thermometer, a stethoscope, a small plastic card with an electromagnetic strip that bore the name Lucy Pascale, M.D. and a picture of an attractive but unsmiling woman with dark hair and eyes, hair pulled back from her face, wearing the glasses that now rested on the stairs.

"Bingo!" said one of the techs, holding something up in his gloved hand. "I think we may have hit pay dirt here." He dropped the silvery disc into an evidence bag and handed it down to Race who gazed at it hungrily. It was an unmarked CD. Lord only knew what was on it, for all he knew it could be the doctor's collection of MP3s. But it probably wasn't.

An hour later, he and Diana were back on the plane. More soldiers had arrived to secure the compound, and most of the techs were staying behind to examine the facility closely. Two techs, Diana and he were going back to Washington with the preliminary reports, some blood samples, and the evidence from Dr. Pascale's body. He wanted to know what data was on that disc, and he wanted to know now.

Diana leaned over to him and yelled over the plane's engine. "We can't do anything now, Race. Why don't you take a nap?" Shrugging, he tried, but he had difficulty stopping his mind's racing. Eventually, he dropped off, only waking again when they landed in Washington. Hadji and Jessie were waiting with Estella on the landing field when they disembarked from the plane. Airmen went aboard to get their things, and the two kids slammed into him as soon as they were in range.

He was thankful that they'd already been told that the facility had been empty. He smiled at Estella who seemed immeasurably relieved that he had returned unharmed. Arms around the kids, he walked forward. "Where's Corvin?" he asked, watching the techs climb into a nearby jeep and go. He'd already extracted a promise from them that they would get him the minute the CD was checked out.

"Back at headquarters, riding the crew examining the satellite footage."

"Any news on that front?"

"Yes," Hadji said glumly. "They're having trouble tracking the planes because they've intermingled themselves with other traffic."

"They'll manage."

"So, they weren't there," Jessie said. "But was there any sign that they had been there?"

"Yes," Race said. "Both Benton and Jonny's fingerprints were present, and we found places where Bandit had scratched at the bottom of doors."

"So they are all right?" Hadji asked.

Diana said, "Sure. They're –"

Race shook his head and cut her off. "We can't be sure of that, Hadji, but it seems likely. They want Dr. Quest to do something for them, and they won't get that if they hurt either of them." He could see Estella exchanging glances with Diana, but he kept both the kids' attention on him as they walked. "How are your searches going?"

"Director Corvin made us stop for lunch," Hadji said. "And then he told us that you were arriving back."

Jessie nodded. "But we've found a few more details, and the Canadian authorities have continued to questions those four kids in New Brunswick, forwarding the information to us. Carvaggio's family joined the corporation to get away from the Mob. They disappeared in the fifties from Chicago." Jessie grinned. "We had to get the Chicago police to pull the case file out of their archives. It's very different. I guess Carvaggio's grandfather was in the hospital and was visited by men in suits. The police assumed they were mobsters, and that the family was either moved or killed to get them out of the way."

"But instead, they were taken into the corporation, where neither the government nor the mob could locate them," Hadji went on. "One can see why they might have found that appealing."

"I suppose," Race said. "What was the grandfather's line?"

"He was a professor of economics," Jessie said. "But his brother was up to his ears in the Mafia and did something stupid."

"I see," Race said, feeling somewhat overwhelmed with information.

"We have also found out how they have inserted people into the Social Security database," Hadji said, grinning. "Corvin was most irritated that it took us so short a time."

"I'm not surprised." Race thought of all those people in Information Operations who were going to get an irate lecture from Corvin about their ineptitude with some sympathy. It was no fun having two bright kids find what you've spent years searching for in three hours with a fast modem.

They climbed into the van and their driver drove them at a measured pace toward the I-1 offices. They'd been on the road for nearly ten minutes when Race's phone rang and he answered it. "Bannon, here."

"We've done the preliminary checks on that disc, sir, and we've determined that there are video files on it. Do you want to be present when we view them?"

"Absolutely," Race said, sitting up sharply. "Which building are you in?"

"A-11," he said.

"Driver, where are we headed?"

"Building B-3, sir."

The main offices of I-1 . . . Race leaned forward to the driver. "Drop me by A-11, would you? Then take the kids back to B-3."

"Race, where are you going?" Estella asked.

"There's some evidence I need to take a look at."

"Then why can't we come, too?" Jessie asked, looking up at him curiously.

Race thought back on that bloodstain, and said, "Because you have work to do elsewhere, Ponchita." Both Hadji and Estella seemed to have caught the alarm in his tone, but Jessie just sighed and nodded. He glanced at Diana. "Why don't you go with them?" he suggested in a casual tone. "I think you and Estella will probably find a lot to talk about." Hadji was looking at him suspiciously, but Diana nodded thoughtfully. The driver stopped the van and Race hopped out, winking at the kids and waving. "I'll see you all shortly, I'm sure," he said, then turned and walked swiftly into the building.

The data from the CD had been loaded onto one of the machines in the computer lab, and the tech sat in front of the keyboard, waiting. Looking up as Race entered, he said, "We called Director Corvin, too. He wants us to wait until he gets here." He smiled up at him. "Oh, and my name is Stanley Sherman, but you can call me Bill."

Race nodded, quirking an eyebrow at the man. He sat down next to Bill, gazing at the screen impatiently. "What's that?"

"The directory of files on the disc." Bill pointed to a group that all had an icon of an old-fashioned movie camera. "Those are the video files, they're all labeled by date and time, it looks like, all but one." Race saw that the one whose name wasn't a string of numbers was named _Assessment_. "I think this one's a text file, in some word processing program that my machine doesn't recognize. It should open, though, when we get to that point."

Phil walked in and took the chair that stood behind Race and the tech. "All right, Sherman, let's take a look," he said.

Bill opened the first file, and they were treated to the image of Benton, Jonny and Bandit asleep on a bed in one of those rooms. Race leaned forward urgently. A line across the bottom of the screen showed the date and time. They started watching at a faster speed till Jonny stretched and woke up. He sat up and checked his father's pulse, and scratched the dog. The boy then got up and limped over to the bathroom, and they could see the enormous bandage on his leg that covered the wound. A few minutes later, he came out again and sat on the bed. Other than that, nothing happened for a while, so Bill sped things up again. Phil began tapping his fingers against the back of Bill's chair irritatingly. Bandit got up woozily and climbed onto Jonny's lap, licking his master's face. Then he got down and started exploring the room, all at high speed, for Bill didn't bother to slow down to watch the dog.

Benton sat up, and Bill dialed the speed down again and backed up. They could hear the dog barking manically. They listened to Jonny and Benton talk, and Race found himself cracking his knuckles one by one. Apparently Corvin wasn't the only one with irritating nervous habits. He desisted and focused his attention on the video. When Benton said, "By now, Race knows we're gone and he'll have started looking," Race nodded and muttered "Damn straight." Corvin patted him on the shoulder.

Things seemed pretty predictable for a while, with a smooth talking villain named Crandall in a suit, two thugs with guns and a pretty young medical assistant who took Jonny away to be examined by Dr. Pascale. Race contemplated the pathetic body on the stairs for a moment, but then the video shifted to one of the sitting rooms and Benton sitting down across from Crandall.

Most of the interview could have been lifted straight out of half a dozen of the doctor's encounters with villains of this sort, apart from the medical assistant. They watched the same medical assistant come in and take Benton away to be examined. Race made mental notes of some important information from this first encounter. Crandall had threatened Jonny for the most paltry of reasons, and somebody was giving Jonny morphine.

The video faded, and Bill reached for the mouse. Race caught his hand. "It looks like something else is coming up." Bill sat back and they watched a document file come up on the screen. It appeared to be a medical report on Jonny's condition, and included an image of the wound which made Race hiss. Following this report was another regarding the capture, summing up most of what Kathleen had already told him, including the summary execution of the man Steve. Bill whistled as he read through it.

When the last page had cycled through, a new video image came up. "They've got this chained together somehow," Bill said. "I wonder how they did this. It's like PowerPoint, but not exactly, and the file sizes are considerably smaller. . ."

"You can analyze it to your heart's content later, Bill," Corvin said.

"Bill, shut up," Race muttered. He couldn't give a damn how small the files were.

The image that came up was of Benton sitting in that room, looking through the files he'd been left. Race nudged Bill who sent the image whizzing by again until Crandall entered the room. Race wondered where Jonny was during this time, all these hours that Benton spent studying files.

When Crandall started asking questions, Corvin leaned forward. Race listened for a few minutes, then said, "Do we have to listen to all of this in detail?" he asked.

"We don't know what he's going to say, Race. We could learn something useful." Race sat still and listened while the doc went on about all of the projects that he was being asked to work on. They all seemed pretty run of the mill, until you thought about who this Crandall fellow might be selling the information to. Benton ran through his plans smoothly, describing techniques that Race recognized in some cases and going off onto tangents of high flown theory in others.

As Benton closed one file and picked up another, a guard came in and pulled Crandall out. They watched as Benton stood up, an alarmed expression on his face, then subsided under the threat of a gun. Benton looked after him for a few moments, clearly worried, then began reading through the files again. Then the video cut away and they were looking at Dr. Pascale who was gazing calmly into the camera. "As you can see," she said, "Crandall is working par for the course up to this point. His behavior seems rational and relatively appropriate. I saw no reason at this time for concern, however, my confidence, and yours, was clearly misplaced."

Race found this more than a little discomfiting. As the video cut out, Bill whistled again. "Is that the corpse?" he asked.

"Yeah," Race said.

"Seems like she must have pissed our buddy Crandall off."

Race took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This did not seem promising. The video came up on Jonny, alone in another bedroom, sitting on the bed, injured leg stretched out in front of him, looking depressed. There was a TV in the room, but it was off, though Race could see the remote near Jonny's hand. Two plates of food sat untouched on the bedside table, and Jonny kept glancing at them and sighing.

"Pause it," Corvin said abruptly. "Race, why isn't Jonny eating? Do you think he's concerned that the food is poisoned?"

Race shook his head. "No, it's one of the doc's rules. When we're in the field, the kids aren't supposed to eat anything without parental approval, either him or me."

Bill looked at him curiously. "Don't you mean adult approval?"

Race shrugged. "Since one of 'the kids' is my daughter, it comes to the same thing."

Bill sat back blinking, clearly a bit confused and Race sighed. Their situation didn't fit into any of I-1's neat little pigeonholes.

"Surely if he was captured alone by an enemy he wouldn't starve himself to death."

Race quirked a grin at the director of I-1. "No, the doc has different rules to cover that."

"Does it happen often?" asked Bill.

"Not that often!" Race exclaimed defensively.

Bill looked taken aback both by his vehemence and the implication that the kids did get captured by enemies alone, just not that often. Race grimaced. "You guys are creeping me out," Bill said, turning back to the screen. "I'm going to start this up again."

The video started again and a second later, Crandall came in, radiating menace. Race saw that Jonny was reacting to him the way he reacted to all of the villains who menaced him, and this made him profoundly nervous. When Crandall said that he was the one who determined whether Benton would be leaving with or without his son, Race felt his whole body tense. Then Jonny said what could possibly have been the worst possible thing to say to such a man. He called his behavior a menacing _act_.

Crandall reacted with fury, which is what Race had expected. What he hadn't expected was for the man to lean down and encircle Jonny's leg with his hand, bringing home the enormous difference in their sizes. He dug his thumb right into Jonny's leg where it was stitched. The expression on his face as he did so made Race's stomach turn over, sort of exultant and very pleased. Jonny cried out in pain and Corvin leaned forward and stopped the video.

"Race!" he said urgently. Race tore his eyes away from the screen and realized that he was standing, his hands clenched into fists. "Race, you're bleeding." He looked down at his left hand and saw that his nails had dug into his palm and that blood was welling up. Phil handed him his handkerchief. "Now sit down."

Race sat, gripping the small square of cloth in his hand, annoyed with himself for being so – so – "Goddamnit!" he said, causing Bill to jump. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry. Please go on."

Bill gave him a sidelong look, and said, "You do remember who the innocent bystanders are, don't you?"

"You're not going to be an innocent bystander if you don't start that video," Corvin snapped. Bill gulped and punched the button that started things going again. They watched as Jonny tried to pull away, but the man's hand was so large on Jonny's leg that he didn't have a chance. Then the bastard let go and Jonny pulled away, turning his back on the man. Crandall grabbed him and dragged him off the bed and out of the room, holding Jonny's arm at an angle that left him barely able to stand, much less walk.

The video shifted again, and they saw Jonny being dragged down the hallway, and Pascale's voice cut in. "Not only did he deliberately cause the boy pain and further his injury, but he's forcing him to walk at a pace he can't keep up in his condition. And all of this before the father can even see what's happening. Clearly, this is to punish the boy for his disobedience, not to persuade the father to cooperate."

Bill tapped the button to pause it. "Am I missing something? Isn't that the point? Punishing the kid, I mean."

Race was unable to speak he was so furious. If he tried, he'd probably just wind up shouting curse words and breaking things. Corvin answered Bill's question. "No. From what information we've been able to glean, children are not punished by the corporation for their own misdeeds. They leave that to their parents. Children are harmed only to encourage their parents to cooperate."

"I see." Bill set the video going again and almost immediately it shifted back to the sitting room as Crandall yanked Jonny through the doorway, narrowly missing cracking his head on the frame. Benton jumped up and ran to his son, but Crandall didn't release him, still holding him so that he had to stand on tiptoe. Benton put his arms around the boy and supported him, taking some of the burden off Jonny's arm, begging Crandall to let him go. Race ground his teeth. That man was due for a broken skull.

Finally, the bastard let Jonny's arm go, and Benton lifted the boy off his feet and onto the couch. The scene that followed illustrated that Crandall was given to escalating fury. Benton tried to placate him, but to no avail. Finally, he was forced to tell Jonny to do what he was told and allow him to be removed from the room again. At least this time they were going to let him have his dog.

Most alarming was the fact that once Jonny was out of the room, Crandall calmly returned to what they had been doing, forcing Benton to try to do the same.

A moment later, the video switched back to the hallway again. "As the boy returns to his room, I want you to take particular notice of the new seepage on the bandage. He has already started to bleed to death."

Race stopped breathing, his eyes fixed on the pale red seepage visible on the bandage. Corvin took his shoulder and shook him. "Race, you said she thought the boy was alive today. Breathe!"

"She was dying, she might have been confused, she might have been talking about someone else – Hadji . . . Jonny could already be dead."

Corvin didn't take his hand off Race's shoulder, he just turned to Bill and said, "Keep going."

The video image shifted again to the bedroom and Jonny. He sat down and picked up one of the plates, but put it aside, staring listlessly at the wall across from him. A few moments later, the door open and Bandit came in, barking at the person who'd delivered him. Jonny called the dog to him, scratched him, and then he curled up on his side around the dog and fell asleep, though the only reason Race was sure it was just sleep was that he shifted from time to time. Race buried his face in his hands, and Corvin squeezed his shoulder.

There was the sound of growling, suddenly, and a voice spoke on the video, and Race looked up to see the medical assistant waking Jonny up and offering him a fresh plate of food. They talked for a few moments, and Jonny seemed very out of it. Race stared, did the girl see that something was wrong? Was she able to tell that Jonny wasn't himself? She checked his forehead, looking worried, and then they all three noticed the stain on the bed.

The medical assistant, Patricia was her name, he thought, ran out of the room, abjuring Jonny not to move. With his typical tendency to do the opposite of whatever a minion told him to, Jonny peeled back the bandage. The resolution on these videos was pretty good, but he couldn't see clearly. Suddenly, Bill froze the picture and made the image zoom closer and they could see the damage that had been done to Jonny's leg. Stitches had been ripped out and the wound was reopened. Race opened his hands abruptly and laid them flat on his legs so that he couldn't poke any more holes in himself.

"Thanks, Bill," Corvin said. "Now go on."

The image went back to the normal distance, and Race watched as Dr. Pascale came in. Her initial reaction underwhelmed him, as she seemed to blame Jonny for his injury, and she actually allowed him to get up and carry Bandit into the bathroom to get him out of the way. When Jonny stood up again, he was tilting at an alarming angle. Patricia helped him back over to the bed, but both she and the doctor looked uneasy. The doctor sent her assistant out to get a wheelchair, and when they got Jonny into it, Dr. Pascale pulled the covers back to reveal that the stain beneath the surface was wider than the one on the bedspread. They wasted no time after that getting him out of the room.

The image faded away to once again be replaced by a document detailing the extent of Jonny's additional injuries and the amount of blood they'd had to give him to get him back to normal blood pressure. Race was just relieved by the fact that the report indicated that Jonny had survived the experience. Corvin, on the other hand. . .

"Two liters?" he exclaimed, half standing up. "Two! He's . . . he's so small." Race gulped, and listened to Corvin muttering profanely about Crandall.

The text ended with side by side views of the wound as it had been when Jonny reached the complex, the wound after Crandall had savaged him, and the wound once it had been re-stitched. That view stayed up for thirty seconds, and all three of them stared at it in silence.

When the video came back up, it was showing a view of the sitting room with Benton and Crandall again. As Benton, with a look of distaste, bent to pick up the last file, the guard came in again and told Crandall that Dr. Pascale wanted to speak with him. Benton watched him leave with worry in his eyes, but they had left him alone this time, so he got up and crept to the door to listen. The view switched to the bedroom, where Dr. Pascale was laying into Crandall about Jonny's injuries.

When Benton stepped into the room and the guard pointed his gun at him, Race bit his tongue to keep from shouting at someone who couldn't hear him anyway about something that had happened more than a day ago.

Benton disregarded the gun, and just looked at the pair who were in charge. In his most acid tone, he asked, "What does your corporate handbook tell you to do if you kill my son?"

Dr. Pascale drew back as if he'd struck her, but Crandall just smiled grimly. "Either let you go, kill you, or obtain a new hostage. I already have people in place near the Indian boy's camp."

Race reached across Bill and hit the pause button. Then he turned to Corvin who was already dialing his cell phone. He didn't really think they'd come into I-1 headquarters after Hadji, but after that – he didn't want – Benton would murder him if he let those bastards get Hadji.

A moment later, Corvin nodded at Race and handed the phone to him. "Yes, Race? Is everything all right?" Hadji asked.

Race was surprised by the calm voice that issued forth from his lips. "Sure, just wanted to check on you. How are you feeling, kid?"

"I am very frustrated. I have come up against a roadblock on the information superhighway, and I have not yet found my way around it." Race felt a corner of his mouth lifting.

"You will. I don't know anyone better suited to the task."

"When are you coming to join us, Race?" Hadji asked, his voice a little softer this time.

"Soon. I've got some more work to do here."

"This evidence," Hadji asked. "Does it concern my father and Jonny?"

Race couldn't lie to the boy. "Yes."

"May I see it?"

"No. It's just – no, Hadji." He paused for a moment. "We have good reason to believe that they're alive."

"That is good news. I will tell Jessie. Hurry, Race. I miss you." There was a click as Hadji hung up the phone suddenly, and Race handed Phil's phone back to him.

"The kid's okay, right?" asked Bill. Race nodded. "Then do we keep watching?"

"Yes," Race said. "Let's go."

They watched Dr. Pascale assert her authority over Crandall and take Benton away to Jonny. The image faded to black, and then up again, and they saw from the date line that this was the next day, yesterday. Benton and Crandall were back in the same sitting room. "You notice," Phil said, "that we never see him on her turf."

Race nodded. The conversation between Benton and Crandall began as before, but this time the project was a little more the sort of thing that Race had difficulty imagining Dr. Quest countenancing. Enabling nerve gas to penetrate the masks of soldiers . . . . but there Benton was, calmly describing techniques, and Race couldn't blame him.

When he finished, Crandall gave him a condescending compliment then leaned forward. The next question took Race completely by surprise. ""Now, if you would please, tell me something about Race Bannon."

Bill let out a whistle, and Corvin leaned closer. Race watched Benton waffle, looking, to his familiar eye, both furious and desperate. He clenched his fists impotently. "What are you doing, Benton?" he muttered. "Tell him anything he wants to know. Stupid loyal jackass!"

When Crandall sent for Jonny, Race flattened his hands again on his thighs, wishing he could dive through the screen and stop what was happening right now, but of course this had happened yesterday, while he was questioning those kids. Jonny was brought in by the guard Crandall called Marcus. Benton offered to tell Crandall anything, but the bastard just said that he'd earned the punishment and gave Jonny a backhanded slap across the face. Benton started to rise, to go to Jonny, but the other guard shoved him down and stuck his gun in Benton's chest. _Just talk!_ Race willed, knowing that it was far too late to have any effect on the events he was watching.

Benton immediately launched into a description of Race, his skills and abilities. Jonny, as loyal as his father, tried to stop him, and Crandall threatened to hit him again.

Race was taking long deep breaths now, trying to control his rage at Crandall for putting the boy through this monstrous scene. Jonny looked terrified, Benton looked violently angry, but at the same time desperate. Then Crandall asked him if Race would be in charge of a search for them, and Race suddenly understood his hesitations. He didn't want to tell Crandall anything that might hamper Race's efforts to find them. Benton paused, Race could see he was going to answer, but he paused just too long for Crandall, who hit Jonny again.

Benton answered. Race could see that neither he nor Jonny had noticed the sick enjoyment on Crandall's face. The bastard made Race's flesh creep. Then Crandall asked another question that Race hadn't expected. He asked about Jessie and Estella. Corvin had a hand on his shoulder instantly, to hold him down, though Race felt no inclination to stand. Could Benton be that practical?

Before Benton could even try to answer, though, Jonny yelled, "You leave Jessie alone, you rotten creep!"

Race reached out, as if he could take Jonny by the shoulder and quiet him, but he was only an image on a screen. And Crandall seized the boy by the hair, yanking his head back, telling him to be quiet. When he released Jonny, Benton started answering.

Benton's answers were utterly believable, but utterly false. Race breathed a great sigh of relief. Benton had a better knowledge of Jessie than that, but Crandall seemed to buy it without difficulty. Race saw Bill looking at him out the corner of his eye, clearly surprised by his reaction.

Unfortunately, Benton's prevarication shifted Crandall's attention to Jonny, who wasn't nearly that practical. Jonny shrank away, nearly frightened beyond his ability to cope, but the defiant fire in the boy's eyes wasn't yet extinguished. Race could tell he was trying to be brave, but his voice quavered and his answers to Crandall's questions were muddled.

As Benton tried to reason with Crandall, his own words had more than a touch of babble to them. Race's blood boiled when he saw what the bastard was doing to his friend and his son. Crandall left them alone, and Benton tried to reason with Jonny who adamantly didn't want to talk about Jessie. Race cringed when Jonny suggested that Race would be angry with him, and resolved to tell the boy that there were situations where talking was the only way to act. And hug the stuffing out of him.

"That's alarming," Phil said in an undertone.

Race looked back at him. "What do you mean?"

"The last time I saw Jonny look like that, so firmly cuddled against Benton like that, was just after Rachel died."

Nodding, Race said, "Does it surprise you? The kid's not coping."

"He's coping better than I would expect, actually," Corvin said. "He's still defying the bastard."

"Yeah, I wish he'd stop."

"So do I," Phil said. "So does Benton, I'd wager."

Race watched them talk, furious at the thought of those smug corporation bastards watching this and getting clues about their weaknesses. When Benton explained to Jonny that Race would want them to stay alive until he could find them, Race let out a solemn "Amen."

Then Jonny, in a weepy voice, said, "Race is late. He's very late. He needs to get here now." Jonny tried to wipe away his tears and winced at the pain. Race stood up and turned his back on the screen, going to stand facing the wall, striving to get himself under control. He couldn't love that boy more if he was his son, and that was yesterday! _Hold on, Jonny, I'm coming_ , he thought. _Don't give up._ Race was consumed with the desire to be out there, in a plane, searching, but blind searching wouldn't get them anywhere.

Phil was suddenly behind him. "It's okay, Race. We'll find them."

"I know we will, Phil. I have no doubts. But like you said, Jonny hasn't lost any of his defiance. He's going to talk himself into an early grave." _If he hasn't already_.

"Don't think like that, Race. They will be fine."

Race shook his head and went back to sit in the chair, to continue watching. Bill had frozen the image. Jonny was leaning against his father, who had an arm around his shoulders and was glaring harshly at Crandall.

Once Corvin, too, had settled back into his seat, Bill started the video again. Crandall asked Jonny some questions about Jessie's skills, and the boy managed to be both vague and convincing. He didn't really tell him much more than Benton had.

Then he asked Jonny what he was good at, and the boy said, "Getting into trouble. And catching minions." Race sighed.

Corvin snorted. "Truer word were never spoken,"

"Catching minions?" Bill asked incredulously. "He's a kid."

"And he's caught more 'minions' as he puts it, than most experienced agents." He gave Race a wry look. "Present company excepted." Bill still looked disbelieving and Corvin said, "Hey, about half the information we provided for your department yesterday on the corporation was obtained by Jessie and Hadji. Quest wasn't making it up when he said they're all prodigies."

"Could we get back down to business?" Race said. "One of those prodigies asked me to hurry, and I don't want to disappoint him." Race groaned. "Two of them, actually, only one of them said I was late."

Bill unpaused the video, and they were treated to Jonny exploding when asked to give information about Race. "Race can do anything, and he's going to come in here and kick your butt."

There was silence in both rooms as Jonny, looking appalled by what he'd said, buried his face in his father's side. Corvin cleared his throat and said, "I believe that's called blind faith."

Race let out a shuddering breath. He wasn't going to disappoint either of those kids. Jonny would be safe with Hadji as soon as he could swing it.

Then Benton started babbling, imploring Crandall to allow him some time with Jonny, pleading with him not to separate them again. Race could see that Crandall got a charge out of having a man like Dr. Quest practically on his knees before him, begging.

When Crandall left, having graciously agreed to give them the afternoon together, provided Benton worked hard the next day, Jonny looked up at his father and asked a question that made Race's heart break. "Race is going to be too late, isn't he?"

"Not if I can help it, Jonny," Race said to himself. When Benton looked nearly as scared as Jonny, Race found he was clenching his fists again.

A moment later they found themselves looking at Dr. Pascale again. "I was not permitted to examine the boy after this incident. Crandall did not call me, which would have been proper procedure, he merely sent my assistant in with medical supplies. When I went to take a look at him, his father wouldn't let me near him, and given the boy's reaction and his condition, I felt that pressing the matter might be counter-productive. I contented myself with reviewing the video of the interrogation, to make sure that there were no signs of injury that neither Patricia nor I could see." She looked sourly down at the table in front of her and back up at the camera. "I then pulled Crandall's personnel file and took a look. Imagine my distress upon finding that he was not given guard duty as a young man because the placement officer felt he had a tendency toward bullying. Perhaps someone in personnel should read these files a little more closely."

The image cut away then to a brief text document that backed up her statement, then that faded to be replaced by an image of Benton and Jonny asleep. Bandit sat near the foot of the bed, scratching. The date line at the bottom of the screen told them that it was nearly four-thirty in the morning the next day. That would be today, Race reflected. A sudden loud pounding brought Benton, barely conscious, to his feet, glaring at the door. Jonny rolled up, eyes wide, staring, and Bandit ran toward the door, barking fit to wake the dead. Benton seized the little dog just as the door was flung open and Crandall came in.

Jonny jumped, wincing at the pain he'd caused himself and slithered off the bed toward his father. They were both fully dressed, as if Benton had been half-expecting something of this sort.

Crandall started right in. "I'd say good morning, Dr. Quest, but it isn't one. It seems we underestimated that Bannon fellow."

"This must be when he found out about the arrests in Canada," Phil said. Race nodded.

When the bastard announced that they were going to move them, Race could see that Benton was relieved. He must have been expecting them to kill both him and Jonny. When he informed them that they were to be sedated, and Benton objected, Race understood completely. Heaven only knew what Crandall might do while they were out. It would be the perfect time to separate them, for one thing.

The threat to knock Jonny out the 'old-fashioned' way set Race's blood boiling again, especially with Jonny struggling to free himself from the big man's grip. Then he cried out, and Race saw the expression on Crandall's face. The pure, unadulterated fury there made him very worried. The man had a hair trigger where Jonny was concerned.

Despite Benton's attempts to assuage the man's temper, Crandall terrified Jonny into submission, then let him return to his father. When he ordered a woman to sedate the two of them, she refused, citing Jonny's injuries and the possibility of concussion. After that, they left, with that woman acting as a sort of shield for them against Crandall's men.

The image faded then and they saw Dr. Pascale. "So you see, if Bridget Marquez hadn't refused the order Crandall gave her, he might have endangered the boy's life yet again. His blatant disregard for procedure and the most basic of corporate policies has endangered this project from the outset. Not only has he severely injured the boy, but he has also alienated both him and his father. The likelihood that either will now acclimate to life within the corporation has been materially lessened. Crandall deserves nothing less that the severest censure, or even dismissal with all that entails. I append to this my full written report on Crandall's behavior, as well as a full report on the boy's current medical condition as I last saw him, and leave it in your capable hands. And, needless to say, though Dr. Quest has not suffered any physical injury, the unreasonable stress and trauma to which he is being subjected will no doubt result in half-hearted, unproductive, unreliable and inaccurate work. Thus the corporation stands to lose on every front because Theodore Crandall is a braying jackass. While I cannot prove this last point, it is my experienced opinion. It is to be hoped that some action will be taken on this matter before Jonathon Quest is dead."

"You can count on it, lady," Race muttered. "Action is going to be taken. I'm going to kill that rotten –" Race's words cut off in a gasp as the image of Jonny, clad only in his underpants and lying on an examination table came up. The leg wound had been re-stitched, but his left arm had a dark black bruise in the shape of handprint encircling it, and his shoulder was bruised as well. He was unconscious or sleeping, his skin was pale, his eyes were shadowed, and there was an IV in his arm. "I think I'm going to be sick." He glanced over to Phil and saw that he had turned his face away, his hand over his eyes.

"You know," he said in a voice Race had to strain to hear. "In my career with I-1, I've seen worse, but never on a kid I knew."

The next image was of Jonny shirtless in the bedroom, his father kneeling in front of him, now with a bruise on each arm, and his face swollen so badly that one of his eyes was shut. Race looked at it for a moment and then closed his eyes. "That bastard is going to pay," he murmured.


	15. Ties that Bind

Benton was reading to Jonny when they felt the plane bank and start descending. Jonny sat up sharply, looking scared. Benton put an arm around him, trying to comfort him. It was difficult when he was so nervous himself. Bandit seemed torn between barking at the door and comforting Jonny. Benton sympathized, but Jonny went and picked the dog up.

"Quiet, boy," he said, going back to sit against his father's side. Benton scratched the little dog's head. He seemed very confused to be surrounded by bad people that he wasn't allowed to bite or even bark at. How was he supposed to protect his boy if he wasn't allowed to do anything?

They taxied to a halt, and Benton felt Jonny stiffen. He couldn't tell him everything would be all right, because he couldn't make that promise, and he wouldn't lie to his son. He just held him close, providing what comfort he could with his simple presence.

* * *

When the plane stopped, Jonny froze. He felt like a stupid little kid, like a coward, but he was really scared of Crandall. His father was too, which made Jonny feel a little better about it, but he'd never felt this way about anyone before. Not even Zin, who was scary enough. No matter what his father said, he knew Hadji wouldn't be this scared, and he'd be better at comforting their father.

Dad was hugging him and Bandit when the door opened and Marcus and Chris walked in. "All right, kid, you're coming with me," Marcus said. "Dr. Quest, you go to the lab with Chris."

His father stood up, so Jonny did, too. He wondered where Crandall was.

"Mr. Crandall said that I could have Jonny with me when I worked."

Marcus shrugged. "I have my orders, Dr. Quest. I take the boy to your quarters, and Chris takes you to your lab. Mr. Crandall isn't here yet, he won't be arriving for at least a few hours, so I'm just going to follow my orders."

Jonny really didn't want to go away with Marcus. He looked nervously up at his dad, but he could see that he wasn't going to argue. There probably wasn't any point, anyway. Marcus was just a stupid minion, and if he was going to follow his orders, they couldn't stop him.

"Okay," Jonny said, stepping forward. "See you later, Dad." Maybe if he seemed agreeable, Marcus wouldn't grab him. He held on tightly to Bandit, though.

"Yes, Jonny, I'll see you soon," his father said. Jonny gave him a smile, and then walked out the door with Marcus. They didn't seem to want to blindfold him here, and Jonny wondered why that was. It made him kind of nervous.

They walked out of the plane into a large hangar where there were a couple of other, smaller planes. Jonny turned his head and looked at the one they were getting off of. It was very ordinary. Marcus gave him a shove.

"Get moving, kid."

Bandit started barking, and Jonny squeezed him and hissed at him to be quiet. He subsided with a perplexed sounding whine. Marcus put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to a door in the side of the hangar. Jonny tried without being obvious about it to see where his father was being taken, and caught a glimpse of him going through a door on the other side of the hangar. Jonny sighed. They had to let him see his dad again, didn't they?

This facility was more decorated than the last one had been. There were pictures on the walls of fruit and landscapes. Jonny looked around, trying to get his bearings. He wanted to remember how to get back to the hangar if he had to. It was the only exit he knew.

They came to a flight of stairs with a metal railing, and Jonny looked around curiously. The hallway stretched past it, but Marcus was guiding him upwards.

"What's down there?" he asked.

"Never you mind that, kid," Marcus said, giving him a shove up to the landing. Jonny's grip slipped, and Bandit squirmed out of his arms. He landed with a yip, but was on his feet facing Marcus instantly, barking like mad.

"Shut up, mutt!" Marcus growled, and aimed a kick at the little dog. Jonny interposed himself quickly, not wanting Bandit to get hurt, and the kick hit him in his right shin, knocking his foot sideways and throwing his balance off. He went down to his knees, jarring his left thigh badly.

Jonny glared up at Marcus, knowing that with the strength of that kick, he could easily have killed Bandit. "Don't you hurt my dog!" he yelled.

"Then pick him up and get moving, you whiny little shit!" Blinking back tears of frustration, Jonny scooped Bandit up and Marcus gave him another shove, knocking him hard against the metal railing, sending pain lancing through his side. Gasping, Jonny managed to hang on to Bandit, but the dog yipped as he gripped him too tightly.

"Sorry, boy," Jonny muttered and started climbing the steps again, every movement making his ribs hurt. He made it to the top of the stairs, but he was breathing hard when he got there.

"This way," Marcus said, putting a hand in the middle of his back and pushing. Jonny bit back a cry as the man's action hurt him. They went down to the fourth door on the right, Marcus put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He wished the man would stop grabbing the shoulder that Crandall had hurt, but he wasn't going to say anything. He wasn't whiny.

Marcus opened the door and Jonny moved forward before the man could give him another shove. Evidently this was their goal, because instead of following him, Marcus shut the door behind him, leaving him alone. Jonny walked forward slowly, looking around. This was a living room, with big windows all along one wall leading to a tropical garden outside. He could see that the garden itself had a high wall around the edges, with barbed wire along the top. The sun was bright outside, and Jonny walked right up to the windows and looked out. He hadn't seen the sun for three days. There were benches out in the garden, but when Jonny tried to open one of the French doors, he found that they were locked.

Sighing, he turned around and let Bandit down. The little dog wanted to explore as much as Jonny did. Moving quickly hurt, though, so Jonny meandered through the space. There was an overstuffed couch of blue corduroy, and two chairs covered in blue and red and green plaid fabric. They faced a television that had a VCR, a DVD player and a PS2 attached to it. There was a big stereo system next to it, and speakers around the room. Jonny's glance froze when he looked to the wall next to the door he'd entered by. There was a picture of his mother and father that he knew had always hung on his father's office wall, and next to it the two school photos from last year with him and Hadji grinning toothily. He walked slowly over and looked up at them. Those were the same frames. These were the actual pictures off his father's wall.

Looking around more closely, he saw a lot of things from their house. The pile of games next to the PlayStation were the games Jonny had at home, and, he picked up Final Fantasy X and saw the scratch on the case that had happened when he and Hadji took it with them on a trip to California the previous year. There were two doors off this room into other parts of the suite and Jonny went through to look hesitantly. In the kitchen, Bandit's own bowls were sitting side by side next to the fridge, and Bandit was sniffing at the food distrustfully.

On the fridge, Jonny saw that his last report card was prominently displayed using the same magnets from home, the little plastic ones his mother had used for his schoolwork when he was little. One said, "Super!" and the other said, "Great Job!" Jonny snatched the report card and the magnets down, tucking them into the pockets of his shorts.

Opening the fridge, he saw that it was well stocked with cut vegetables, fruit cups and juices, and even a few sodas. Root beer, his favorite. He slammed the door shut and left the kitchen to look through the other door.

There was a long hallway with doors leading off it to the right. Jonny looked through the first door and saw that it was a huge bathroom with a wide tub, double sinks and fluffy rugs.

The next room made Jonny stare in shock. It was his stuff, on the walls, on the bedside table. He walked around, stunned. His roller blades were sitting on the ground by the dresser, and on the top stood the photos of his mom, his dad and Hadji. Conspicuously absent was the one of him and Race at Disneyworld when he was nine, and the picture his father took a couple of months back of all three kids and Race in the mountains.

Morbidly curious, Jonny pulled the drawer open and saw his own socks and underpants. Each drawer below contained more of his clothes, one entire drawer was full of black t-shirts. Jonny stood up and went out. The next room was also a bedroom, much like _his,_ but it was empty of personal things. Jonny backed out and went on to the last room. It was bigger and had its own television and a king-sized bed. The medley of photos on this dresser was familiar, but there were absences here, too. Jonny had noticed a pattern. There were no pictures of anybody who wasn't dead or here, except for Hadji. Jonny went back to his own room and looked again.

The picture of Grandpa Doug wasn't there either. It was like they were editing everyone out of his life except his father and Hadji. But Hadji wasn't here. . . He went back to the empty room again and stared around, imagining Hadji's stuff there, getting angrier as he thought about it.

Those creeps, they were going to snatch Hadji, too. He didn't want them to get hold of his brother. What would they do if they had both of them? Would they hit Hadji too, or just keep on with him till – till he was dead, and then switch?

Jonny went back out into the living room and sat down. His chest ached, and so did his leg. His face was stiff, and he could barely open his left eye. These people needed to be . . . to be . . . Bandit came running out of the kitchen and jumped up onto the couch next to him. "They need to be dog food, don't they, Bandit?" he said, scratching the little dog's ears.

He had to remember to tell his father that Marcus had tried to kick Bandit.

* * *

Benton had spent the day working hard on miniaturization methods. He'd looked over the various failures George, his predecessor in this job, had left behind, and decided that one of them had potential if taken in a different direction. By mid-evening, he'd made quite reasonable progress and was wondering when he'd be permitted to return to Jonny. And _if_ he'd be permitted to return to Jonny.

Crandall came in at seven-thirty and watched him for a few minutes, then glanced through the work he'd done. "Well, Dr. Quest, it appears that you've been most diligent. I'm quite impressed."

"Thank you," Benton said in very neutral tones. Should he ask about Jonny? He decided not, it would probably annoy the man, and that was the last thing he wanted to do when he was seeming happy with him.

"I suppose it's time for you to knock off. I'll have the kitchen send you up a light supper. Does that suit?"

"Thank you," Benton said again. "Where are my quarters?"

"Chris will take you to them."

Benton nodded. "What time do you want me to start in the morning?" he asked.

"Nine sounds good to me. Chris will guide you here." Crandall smiled. "I'll see you in the morning, then, Dr. Quest. Good night."

"Yes, good night."

Benton left the lab and found that Chris was waiting for him. The walk to his quarters was a long one, and Benton hoped devoutly that he'd find Jonny there already. He didn't want to think about having to pitch a fuss to find out where he'd been taken.

When they reached the door, Benton saw that Marcus was standing guard outside it. Didn't those two ever sleep? He walked in the door and looked around the dark room, flipping on the light. It was a large, well-proportioned space, tastefully decorated, and clearly meant as more permanent living quarters than those they'd had before. That Jonny had been here was made manifest by little pile of food wrappers and soda cans on the coffee table. Bandit ran up and greeted him happily, and Benton squatted to scratch the dog.

"Jonny?" he called softly. Receiving no reply, he set off to see if he could find the boy. There were gardens outside the windows across from the door, a natural pull for Jonny, but he found that the door was locked. There were two doors off this main living space, and Benton tried the one on his right first. There was a long hallway, probably to the bedrooms. The first door was a bathroom, no surprise there. The next appeared to be Jonny's room, from the various items around the room. Benton was disturbed to see Jonny's own posters on the walls. Jonny, however, was not present.

The next room was empty, both of boy and personal belongings, so Benton went on to the last room. There he found Jonny, fast asleep in the middle of the king-sized bed. There was a plate on the bedside table and two more soda cans, as well as a small pile of food wrappers, including a Ho-Ho wrapper. He looked very peaceful, and Benton hadn't the heart to disturb him. He walked over and kissed the boy on the forehead, then picked up the plate and headed back into the living area. When was Crandall going to have someone bring him a meal?

A beep sounded from the room opposite the bedrooms, so Benton opened the door on a kitchen. Bandit's dog bowls were the first thing he noticed, and he wondered where the food had come from. It didn't look familiar. There was a flashing light on the wall next to the refrigerator, so Benton went over and studied the panel. It seemed to be a door of some kind, but Benton couldn't figure out how to open it. Frustrated, he tapped the light. "Hello!"

The door opened with the sound of a small latch releasing, and Benton gazed in surprise at the interior. Pulling the tray out, he looked at the device. It appeared to be a dumbwaiter of some kind. He shut the door again, and the light went out. There was food for two people here, but Benton, noticing the peanut butter and jelly jars on the counter, their lids to the side, guessed that Jonny had gotten his own dinner. He put the tray down on the table in the corner and sat down. Then he shook his head. He got up and took the tray to the bedroom. One could become too rule-bound, he thought. Sitting down on the bed next to Jonny, he ate the pasta and vegetables he had been sent.

When he was done, he looked at the second plate. The smell of the food hadn't even made Jonny stir, so he must not be hungry. Benton, however, was still hungry, so he ate nearly all of the second helping. The day had been stressful for him as well, and the earlier he went to sleep, the earlier he could get up and spend time with Jonny. He set the alarm beside the bed for five-thirty, and, after covering Jonny up, climbed into bed himself.

Rachel would be quite peeved with him for sleeping so much in his clothes, and allowing Jonny to sleep in his clothes. But at the moment, he didn't much care. He reached over and stroked Jonny's hair, then fell asleep.

* * *

Race, finally back in control of himself, returned to I-1's main building with Phil. "The kids are in the room next to my office," he said. "I'm going to check on the satellite mapping."

Nodding, Race took the stairs two at a time, running up to find the kids. Opening the door, he saw the two of them working hard on their laptops, so focused on their tasks that they didn't hear the door open. Estella was sitting nearby in a chair, a book in her hand.

Seeing Hadji made Race's control crumble, and, much to his horror, he found that his eyes were suddenly hot with tears. He shut the door quietly before either of the kids noticed him and went into Phil's office and sat down in one of the easy chairs, burying his face in his hands. A moment later he heard the door open and he looked up, petrified that one of the kids had heard him and followed.

It was Estella. He dropped his head back into his hands and let the tears flow. She pulled a chair over next to his and sat down, putting a hand on his back. "Race, what is it?"

Race shook his head and didn't answer, unable to speak past the sobs rising in his throat. Estella pulled him into her arms and sat with him, letting him cry, not speaking. Race was grateful. The platitudes that so many people thought were necessary in situations like this would have made him want to throw things. Everything was _not_ going to be all right.

After awhile, he managed to bring himself back under control, and he pulled away. She kept a hand on his shoulder and gazed at him with concern evident in her eyes. "He – they – are they dead?"

"No, we don't think so," Race said quietly. "They left the facility alive, at any rate."

"What was the evidence you were looking at? That you couldn't show Hadji?"

Race closed his eyes. "Video footage of what went on in that place."

Estella's eyes widened. "'What went on. . .' Race, you're scaring me. What do you mean? What did you see?"

"Jonny – You know they use the kids to control the parents, right?" Estella nodded. "Well, what we found was the evidence the doctor at the site had put together to discredit the fellow in charge of Jonny and Benton. Apparently, he's too rough for their standards."

Estella blinked and tilted her head. "Too rough? I got the impression that knocking kids around was a standard part of their method of operations."

"Maybe so, but – Stell, he almost died. The bastard popped some of his stitches and then didn't see that he got medical attention. He lost two liters of blood before anybody realized how badly he was off."

"My God. . .but he's okay?"

"That all depends on your definition. He's gotten pretty thoroughly knocked around." Race shook his head. "And it wasn't because Benton wasn't cooperating. I listened to him talking calmly about ways to do things that made the hair on my neck stand up, but when they started asking him to talk about me and about Jessie and you, things got a little hairy."

"About us?" Estella asked, drawing back a little. "Why?"

"I guess they figured out I was in charge of looking for Benton and Jonny, and they wanted to know what I could do, and maybe what could be done to distract me."

"Race, are we in any danger?"

"Quite possibly. Corvin's offered to let us use one of the suites upstairs till this is all over," Race said, giving her a sympathetic pat on the hand in response to her grimace. "That's the other thing, they're threatening to take Hadji, too."

She nodded. "The kids are worried, Race. You've got to go see them."

"I know, but they can't see me like this. I don't want to scare them."

"Here, let me . . ." She stood up and went to the sink in the corner of the office and got some paper towels wet. "Wash your face, Race, and you'll be presentable."

He wiped his face down. "Thanks, Stell, I appreciate it."

"Dr. Quest is doing what they're asking of him?"

"He hasn't much choice, really, Stell." Race shuddered. "What that bastard's already done to Jonny – he's been hitting him across the face. I don't know what I wouldn't do if they had Jessie."

"Don't let's talk about it," Estella said, a sick look on her face. "Come on, Race."

They went back into the room with the kids, and Race walked up behind Hadji. "How's it going?" he asked.

"Race!" Hadji jumped up and gave him a hug. "I am glad you are back. I have gotten past the obstacle, and I can now tell quite a lot about how the corporation had inserted its people into the computers belonging to the United States government. Unfortunately, this gets us no farther towards locating Jonny or my father."

"That's not really what we're doing, Hadji," Jessie said, looking up from her computer. "We're just trying to trace the – what is the point of what we're doing, Dad?"

Race took a deep breath. "Well, you're helping I-1 figure out the extent of the organization, and how thoroughly they've infiltrated our computer systems."

"And we are keeping out of trouble," Hadji added. "Is that not right, Race?"

"The more we know about the corporation, the safer we can keep Jonny and Benton when we get them back," Race said. "And you, Hadji."

"Right!" said Jessie. "You can count on us." She did a double take. "Wait, what do you mean, Dad? What about Hadji?"

"Very good, Race," Hadji said giving him a wry look. "They were following me, Jessie, from camp."

"Has anyone had anything to eat yet, Stell?" Race asked.

"Actually, no. What time is it?" She looked at her watch. "Oh, maybe we should break for dinner."

"But, Mom," Jessie exclaimed, "we're getting so much done!"

"And you'll do a much better job on a full stomach," Race said firmly. "Come on Ponchita, Hadji. Let's get going. There's a cafeteria downstairs."

Jessie got up reluctantly, but Hadji shook his head. "Let me get just one thing finished, Race, and then I will come. I know where the cafeteria is."

Race pursed his lips. "No more than ten minutes, Hadji, okay?" The boy nodded, and Race put an arm around Jessie's shoulders, leading her out of the room.

"Dad, what was the evidence you were looking at?" Jessie asked when they were out in the hallway. "Can't you tell me, even if you can't tell Hadji?"

"No, sweetheart," Race said.

"Don't ask him, Jessie," Estella said. "It's not fair if he's not supposed to talk about it."

Jessie let out a big sigh. "But you're sure that they're okay?"

"Yup," Race said. "Pretty sure."

They got their food and settle down at a table. After a few minutes, Race checked his watch. Hadji was late, but he thought he'd give the boy a little leeway. The circumstances were pretty unusual. When another fifteen minutes had passed, however, Race got up and went to see what was keeping him, leaving Jessie with Estella.

As he approached the room, he heard Hadji speaking agitatedly. He paused outside, but he could hear no other voices. Hadji was saying, "It cannot be true." Race opened the door and saw that Hadji was speaking into his cell phone. He saw Race enter and gestured him forward urgently, but held his finger up to his lips. "Where do you want me to meet the plane?" Hadji asked. Race's eyes widened. What was this? "I see. Yes, I understand. Thank you."

When Hadji had turned off the phone, Race grabbed him by the shoulders. "What was that all about?"

"It was the corporation!" Hadji exclaimed. "It was a woman called Maggie. She said that my father and brother miss me and want me to join them."

Race felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and he wished he hadn't eaten so much meat loaf. "That's not true, Hadji."

"They said that I-1 killed Jonny's mother, that she was a distraction to Dr. Quest and did not approve of his work for the government."

"What?" Race exclaimed. "No, Hadji, that's just not so!"

"But, could it be true? Is it not possible?"

"No, Hadji, it's not," Race said firmly. "She was killed by Alexandra Jorgensen, who was trying to kill both of them."

"I have heard that story, but I-1 did the investigation. Is it not possible that I-1 could have hired her to kill Jonny's mother and then covered it up?"

"If I-1 killed Jonny's mother to prevent her from distracting him, it was the stupidest thing they could have done!" Race said. "It sent Benton into a depression that lasted for three years. He was only just coming out of it when you joined the family."

"It does seem counterproductive," Hadji agreed, the lines in his forehead smoothing out. He looked down at his cell phone. "Smashing this against the wall would be pointless, I suppose." He sighed. "Sometimes I wish I was like Jonny."

"How so?"

"Jonny would smash it anyway," Hadji said.

"You could smash it, Hadji, if it would make you feel better," Race suggested.

Hadji shook his head. "No, they have this number." He tucked the phone away into his pocket.

Race grinned ironically at him. "Of course, you do realize that Jonny would realize that fact an instant after he smashed it, and be furious with himself."

"That is true. Why do they want me, Race?" Hadji asked. "And why now?"

Race sat down and gave Hadji a sympathetic look. "I'd guess that they made the mistake a lot of people make about you."

"They do not think I am a part of the family," Hadji said, grimacing.

"Well. . ."

"Why are people so blind? Is there something about me that makes them believe that Dr. Quest would not care for me?"

"No, Hadji. People can just be pretty stupid."

"I am tired of being introduced as Dr. Quest's assistant or as Jonny's friend."

Race was taken aback. "Hadji, you don't think we mean to belittle the relationship by that, do you?"

"No, of course not," Hadji replied. "But –" The boy broke off, looking down, and Race was shocked to see little spots appear on his shirt as he started to cry. "I have lost my father and my brother, and I do not think anyone but you and Jessie and Estella realizes it."

Race pulled Hadji into his arms and hugged him fiercely, letting him cry against his chest. "Well, I can tell you, Hadji, Corvin knows. We've purposely kept it quiet, otherwise, but maybe that needs to change. If that's what you want."

Hadji didn't reply, but he gradually stopped crying. "Are you hungry, kid?" Race asked after a few minutes.

"If my faith permitted it, I could eat a whole cow."

"Well, Jessie and Stell probably wonder what hole we've fallen into. Let's go."


	16. Discoveries

Benton woke up to the sound of the alarm the next morning, and Jonny started awake, too. After reaching out to turn off the noise, Benton gazed fondly at his son, who was blinking up at him blearily. "How are you this morning, Jonny?" he asked.

"Dad!" Jonny sat up, wincing a little. Benton suppressed the surge of rage, not wanting it to spoil this time together. "Are you okay? When did you come in? Why didn't you wake me?"

"You looked so peaceful, and I was tired myself," Benton said. "It was well after seven when I got here." There was a clicking sound on the tile floor and they looked over to see that Bandit was coming into the room. The little dog jumped up next to Jonny who started stroking his head.

"Wow," Jonny said. "I must have slept for hours."

"No doubt. Why don't you get cleaned up and I'll meet you in the kitchen for breakfast." Jonny nodded and got up slowly. Benton watched him, concerned. No doubt he was just stiff from all the bruises and such. "Be careful of those stitches when you shower!" he called as Jonny went out the bedroom door followed by his dog.

Benton took a quick shower himself, then started to go to the kitchen to fix something for breakfast. On the way there, he noticed the portrait of Rachel and him, and the twin pictures of Hadji and Jonny. He stopped to look at them, contemplating how much he missed both of the two who weren't here. Not that he wanted either of them to be here, but it had been years since he and Jonny had been alone together. After Rachel had died, Race came, and they both had another person in the house to relate to. Then Hadji had come, providing a playmate for Jonny, but also becoming a firm addition to the family. It seemed very odd now to think that Rachel had never known Hadji.

He continued on into the kitchen. After picking up the mess from Jonny's meals yesterday, he looked in the cupboards. There was cereal, milk and fruit, so Benton set the table and got everything together. Then he sat down and waited for Jonny. It seemed to take quite a while, but then adolescents had a tendency to dawdle over their ablutions. Even Hadji, with his different ways, had developed a sudden fascination with grooming as he'd entered his teen years.

When Jonny came in with Bandit, though, his hair wasn't wet, and since he wasn't given to using the blow dryer, Benton raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you take a shower, son?"

"Nah. I'll take a bath later." Benton nodded. "Hey, Frosted Flakes. Where do they get this stuff, I wonder."

"They probably import it. I'm sure there is a network of covert businesses they operate through to buy supplies from legitimate businesses."

"Yeah, I guess."

Jonny seemed very quiet this morning, but Benton supposed that, under the circumstances, that wasn't surprising. "So, what did you do yesterday?" Benton asked.

"Not much," Jonny said. "I watched a little TV. They have Pokemon, if you can believe it. And a bunch of other kids' cartoons. And Teletubbies." Jonny grimaced.

"I do believe I've managed to avoid that horror," Benton remarked. "Did you get a chance to look around the garden?"

"No, the door was locked."

"Maybe we can get someone to unlock it for you today."

Jonny shrugged, then winced. "I hate this place." His eyes widened suddenly. "Hey, Dad, did you look around last night at all?"

"Just enough to find you and my dinner," Benton said.

"I think they may be planning to bring Hadji here," Jonny said urgently. "It's weird. The only photos we have are of you and me, Mom and Hadji. Not even Grandpa Doug."

Benton felt a chill. "The pictures of Race and Jessie –"

"Are gone. And anyone else who's alive. I saw the picture of your parents on your dresser, but not the one of Mom's parents. And there's an extra room, between mine and yours. I'd bet they have suites of all different sizes, so I just wonder why they gave us one with three bedrooms." Jonny shook his head. "It's like they're trying to erase certain people from our lives. I don't know, like Hadji would say, 'out of sight, out of mind.'"

"That's very alarming, Jonny."

"You're telling me," Jonny said fervently. "I'm just freaked that all of our stuff is here. Your music CDs are in the living room, in that CD rack, my PlayStation games are in there, except for that one you didn't want me to buy, that really violent one." Benton nodded. "And my roller blades, and my posters, and my clothes. It's kind of creepy."

"It's very creepy," Benton agreed.

"Do they think that if they hide all the pictures of people like Race that we'll forget about them?" Jonny asked earnestly. "Because there's not a chance of it!"

Benton stood up and started clearing the table. "Nope," he agreed. "Not the slightest chance."

Jonny got up and started to help him, but Benton waved him away. It looked like he was in a lot of pain. "Have you had any pain pills today?" he asked.

Jonny shrugged, his face creasing with pain. "I checked around. There aren't any in here."

"I'll see what I can do about that," Benton said.

"It doesn't matter," Jonny said. Before Benton could respond to this, his son asked, "When do you have to leave?"

"I'm due at the lab at nine."

Jonny glanced at the wall clock with showed it was a quarter to seven, and grinned. "So we still have a couple of hours?"

"Probably." Jonny's face fell at this qualifier, and Benton put his arm around his shoulders. "Let's just make the most of the time we have, okay, Jonny?" He nodded and Benton gave him a tight squeeze. Jonny let out a yelp and pulled away, his face going suddenly very pale. "Jonny? What is it, what's wrong?"

Benton, already alarmed, grew even more anxious when Jonny just said, "Nothing." The boy turned stiffly and started to leave the kitchen. Bandit, who was always sensitive to Jonny's moods, was watching his young master with concern.

"Jonny, I can see that you're in more pain than you were yesterday morning. What's wrong?"

Jonny shrugged, wincing again. "I just haven't had anything for the pain," he said, and Benton thought he sounded evasive. "There's a phone in the living room, and it says to dial 4 to get the infirmary. I'll just go call."

Jonny started to leave the room again, but he wasn't watching where he was going and bumped into the counter. He let out a gasp of pain and his hand flew to the right side of his rib cage, his face twisting into a mask of agony.

Benton went swiftly to Jonny's side. "What is it?"

"Nothing!" Jonny said through clenched teeth.

"Jonny, take off your shirt," Benton ordered.

"Dad, don't be weird!" Jonny exclaimed and walked out into the living room.

Benton followed. "Jonathon Benton Quest!" he said. Jonny stopped walking. "Take off your shirt at once."

Jonny turned around. "I don't want to, Dad, okay?"

Benton swallowed and took a deep breath. Between the stress of the situation and his worry for Jonny, he could feel anger welling up in him, but he refused to take it out on his son. When he felt he could trust his voice to sound reasonable, he said, "Can you take off your shirt?" One of the side effects of Jonny's somewhat monochromatic taste in clothing was that it could be difficult, barring stains or rips, to tell if he had changed his shirt.

Jonny shook his head, and Benton could see how stiffly he was holding himself. "Can you raise your arms any?" He started to raise his arms, but his eyes screwed shut abruptly. Benton walked forward and lifted Jonny's shirt. On his right side was a livid red and black bruise. Benton stared at it for a moment, then said, "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday," Jonny said. "It's no big deal."

"This is a big deal, Jonny. Who did this? Did Crandall –"

"No, it was Marcus."

Benton let go of Jonny's shirt and kissed him on the forehead. Then he went to the phone and dialed 4. A voice that sounded like Patricia's answered, "Infirmary."

"This is Dr. Quest. My son needs medical attention."

"I'll be there immediately, Dr. Quest. Is he bleeding?"

"I don't know. I think he might have cracked ribs."

"I see. I'll be there in five minutes."

When Benton hung up the phone, he turned back to Jonny. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It didn't seem like a big deal," Jonny said, looking down at the floor. "I didn't want to bother you."

Benton sat down in the chair by the phone because his legs wouldn't hold him up any more. "Jonny, it would not have been a bother. You have to tell me when you've been hurt. I need to know."

Jonny turned away. "I don't want to be a whiner."

Benton surged to his feet and walked around to put his hands, gently, on Jonny's shoulders and look him in the face. "You are not and have never been a whiner, Jonny. Who said that to you?" Jonny looked down at the floor again. "Was it Marcus?"

Jonny's head flipped up and Benton could see blind fury in his eyes. "He tried to kick Bandit!"

"When?"

"On the way here. He could have killed him with as hard as he was kicking."

"How hard did he kick?" Benton asked quietly. "Did he kick you in the ribs?"

"No, I got in the way and he kicked my leg. Then, when I'd picked Bandit up, he shoved me and I ran into the stair railing."

There was a knocking at the door and then it opened to reveal Patricia carrying a medical bag. She rushed across the room and put the bag down on the floor next to Jonny. "I'm going to need to remove his shirt."

Jonny looked up at her with disgust in his expression. "I don't want you here," he said in an angry voice. "And what's the point of doing anything about it? Someone will just hurt me again!"

"Let's not give them any more of a head start than we have to," Patricia snapped back. "Can you take off your shirt?"

"No, he can't," Benton said.

Nodding, she reached into her bag and came out with a pair of scissors. Jonny glared, but under his father's watchful eye he allowed her to start snipping through his shirt. When she'd cut the whole of it away, revealing the injury, Benton had to sit down again. The handprint on his left arm was turning an amazing mixture of yellow and green, while the one on his right was a fading purple. Benton had to clench his fists to keep from launching into a tirade.

"Who did this?" Patricia asked. "And why?"

"Marcus did," Benton said. "Apparently because Jonny had the audacity to stop him from kicking the dog. You'd better get a look at his leg, too. Which leg did he kick?"

"He kicked him in the leg?" Patricia exclaimed. "That's crazy!"

"No kidding," Jonny said, then hissed as she probed the bruise on his ribs.

"Well, they may be cracked, we couldn't tell for sure without an X-ray, and the doctor won't be here until tomorrow."

"Where's Dr. Pascale?" Benton asked.

Patricia's face was suddenly shuttered and very grim. "She's dead." Benton felt his breath catch and he stared at the girl in shocked horror. "According to Crandall, when we were leaving the other facility, she fell down the stairs and died. There wasn't time to retrieve her body."

"Do you believe that?" he exclaimed without thinking, remembering that the last time he'd seen Dr. Pascale was when she'd told him that she would have Crandall removed from this assignment.

Patricia looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Why, of course, Dr. Quest. Why would Mr. Crandall lie?" As she spoke she glanced toward the ceiling and Benton got the hint. Naturally the rooms were bugged.

"Of course, you're right," he agreed. "I must just be getting paranoid." Jonny was looking back and forth between them like they were nuts, and Benton caught his eye and gave him a Look to keep him from saying anything. Jonny subsided but looked thoughtful. After a moment, his eyes widened with realization.

Benton was silent, contemplating the fact that, with Dr. Pascale dead, there might not be anybody to stand between Jonny and the brutality of Crandall and his goons.

"All I can do is tape his ribcage to immobilize him somewhat," Patricia said. "Does it hurt to breathe, Jonny?"

"Yeah," Jonny muttered. "A little."

"Translation," Benton said grimly, "it hurts a lot. Jonny, don't be stoic."

Jonny looked perplexedly at him. "What?"

"It means don't pretend like there's nothing wrong when there is," Patricia said. Jonny glared at both of them. "I can't help you if I don't know something's wrong."

"Who says I want you to help me?" Jonny demanded. "You're one of the bad guys."

Benton shook his head. "Actually, she's not." Both of them turned surprised looks at him. "Patricia's as much a victim as you are, Jonny."

"That's ridiculous!" Patricia exclaimed, but Jonny blinked thoughtfully.

"After all, her family was brought here the same way we were when she was little."

Jonny pursed his lips. "Well, she's old enough to know better, now."

Benton nodded. "Yes, she is."

"The two of you are crazy. I'm not a victim. I'm happy in the corporation."

Jonny looked up at her in astonishment. "You're happy with what they're doing to me?" he asked in a small voice. "You really are a bad guy." Benton wanted to punch somebody, preferably either Crandall or Marcus, but he held his anger in. Jonny sounded so pathetic, so overwrought. Benton wondered how much of it was sincere and how much of it was Jonny's attempt to hit Patricia over the head with a really big sledgehammer.

Patricia's brows knit, and she rushed to say, "Of course not, Jonny, but this won't last."

Benton watched her wind the tape around Jonny's chest. Bandit was watching her with curiosity. Jonny seemed withdrawn and thoughtful. Benton wondered what he was thinking about.

After a few moments, Jonny said, "Will you be the one who comes to take my body away when they kill me?"

Benton's jaw dropped; he was speechless. Patricia stopped winding to give the boy a worried look. "No!"

Jonny sighed disconsolately. "Oh. 'Cause Marcus already treats me like a sack of potatoes. I hate the thought of him just slinging me over his shoulder and dropping me somewhere." Patricia just stared at him, her eyes wide and alarmed, her mouth gaping. Benton really hoped Jonny was playing on her sympathies. He wasn't really worried about that, was he?

"They're not going to kill you, Jonny!" she exclaimed.

Jonny tilted his head and looked up at her. "What will they do with my body, anyway? I want to be buried next to my mother." His eyes were imploring. "Is there a graveyard here? Where is Pamela buried?"

Patricia gave him a troubled look. "I think she was cremated."

"I don't want to be burned!" Jonny exclaimed and Benton nearly swallowed his teeth. He turned away to hide his expression and put his face in his hands. They'd all talked about this subject on their last camping trip. Children can be very morbid, and they had all insisted on discussing the pros and cons of burial versus cremation. Jonny had come down firmly on the side of cremation.

"Jonny, you're upsetting your father," Patricia said gently. Benton didn't turn around, and he was glad he hadn't when Jonny spoke.

"He doesn't want to be burned either!"

"No one is going to be burned. You're not going to die, Jonny. No one will kill you!"

Jonny let out a sad little sigh. "So who will do it, do you think? Will Crandall kill me himself, or will he have Marcus do it? Or Chris?"

"Not Chris!" Patricia exclaimed, and Benton's head whipped around. 'Not Chris' implied that the other two might very well kill his son. Jonny stared at her, open-mouthed. "I mean, no one is going to kill you! You're not going to die!"

Jonny took in a deep breath that obviously hurt, then he spoke in a voice Benton could barely hear. "Would you kill me?" he asked. Benton stared, unable to think, unable to cope with the question. He didn't – he couldn't mean it. "I mean, if you did it, you could probably just give me an overdose of something like morphine, and it wouldn't hurt."

"I would never do anything to hurt you, Jonny!" Patricia exclaimed. "I would not kill you!"

Jonny's lips quivered. "Is it cowardly to prefer something like that to being pummeled?" he asked.

Benton buried his face in his hands for real this time, feeling tears sting his eyes. _A twelve-year-old boy shouldn't have a reason to ask questions like this,_ he thought savagely. _Damn Crandall for putting such thoughts in his head._

"No one is going to kill you, Jonny, not Crandall, not Marcus, not Chris and certainly not me."

"Do you promise?"

There was a distinct pause before she answered. "No one is going to kill you."

Jonny was silent, and Benton didn't move, listening with all his might for what the boy might say next. His voice was so quiet as to be nearly inaudible. "Do you promise?" he asked again, his tone more intense this time.

"Jonny, listen to me, no one is going to –"

"Oh," Jonny said in a voice that was full of desolation. "You think they are going to kill me, don't you?"

"No, I don't. No one is –"

"But you won't promise. You must think it could happen if you won't promise."

There was a fraught silence during which Benton barely breathed. Finally, Patricia let out a long, shuddering breath. "All right, Jonny, I promise. No one is going to kill you." Jonny sniffed, and she said, "Don't cry now. You'll be right as rain in a few days."

When Benton looked up, he saw that Patricia had finished with Jonny's ribs and was checking out his mobility. Then she sent him into the bedroom to change into shorts so that she could look at his leg and started writing in what looked like a chart. She brought it over to him and put it in front of Benton. "Dr. Quest, I'm going to need you to fill out this form, and then sign at the bottom."

Benton looked down at the page and saw a fairly standard medical information disclosure form, but there was a sticky note on top of it on which she had written in extremely tiny letters, "Bannon's cell?" He stared at the little note for a moment, wondering if this was a trap. But after Jonny's emotional outburst, he thought he could risk it. Throwing caution to the four winds, he swiftly wrote Race's number down on the sticky, then filled out the form and handed it back to her.

She took it and tucked it away into her bag without looking at it. Jonny came out and Benton saw the bruise on his leg for the first time. The guards all wore heavy boots, and Marcus was no exception. From the look of Jonny's leg, the kick might not have killed Bandit outright, but it would have injured him severely enough that it might have been very difficult for a qualified vet to save the little dog. Somehow he doubted the corporation had a vet at this site if they didn't even have a doctor here yet.

Patricia gave Jonny instructions on what to do to treat his injuries. Benton glanced up at the clock and saw that it was now 8:25. He'd have to be leaving soon, no doubt. And just as he thought that, there was a knock at the door and then it opened. Chris walked in. "Dr. Quest, it's time for you to come to the lab, now." Bandit jumped up from where he was lying by Jonny's feet and started barking at the intruder.

Jonny looked up, alarmed, but Patricia said. "It will be all right, Jonny." She looked at Dr. Quest. "I'll make sure he gets his medication. We don't like to have children medicate themselves, you know. It's not safe." She smiled down at Jonny's head. "I'll be in and out all day, so Jonny won't be alone all the time."

Benton walked over to his son and kissed him on the forehead. "Do what they tell you, Jonny," he said quietly. "I love you."

Jonny grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "I love you, too."

Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Benton went out the door with Chris.

* * *

Race was frustrated. The satellite tracking was going slowly because there were just too many planes traveling through the skies. The kids were having moderate success in tracing the computer hacking, but he and Diana had nothing they could directly do. The four kids from the boat had been transferred to the United States, and I-1 was putting Pauline's family up at a hotel near the holding facility.

Estella, too, was feeling the strain of inactivity, to the point that Corvin had asked her to look at some of the artifacts that had been brought in over the years.

Race sat in the room with Hadji and Jessie, watching what they were doing and not understanding how they got half of it to happen.

Suddenly his cell phone rang and, pulling it out of his pocket, he got up and left the room so as not to disturb kids' work. "Bannon," he said.

"Mr. Race Bannon?" asked an unfamiliar female voice in hushed tones.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"My name is Patricia. I'm with the corporation."

Race's attention sharpened, and he walked swiftly toward the stairs. This was the medical assistant if he remembered rightly. On the first floor there was a room where a handful of geniuses who could trace any call they got their hands on worked their magic. Race headed there as fast as he could. "I see. What can I do for you?"

"I don't have much time. I will give you some information about where the Quests are, but I need you to do something for me."

"Yes, what?"

"There is a woman, Penelope Miller, who lives at 487 Maple Manor Lane in Clarksville, Florida. Can you see that she's moved someplace where the corporation can't find her?"

"Who is she?"

"My mother."

"I'll do what I can. What can you tell me about Jonny and Dr. Quest?"

"We're on an island. All I know for sure is that it's south of the Equator and close to the International Date Line." Race had just entered the tracing room, and he was immediately the center of attention. Somebody held up a sign that said, "Do you need me to trace your call?" and he nodded fervently while reaching out to grab a pen and a piece of paper off somebody's desk.

"Okay. I got that. There's an awful lot of islands down there, though. What's the climate?"

"Tropical. I'm sorry, I'm a medical assistant. Knowing locations isn't part of my job."

"Right. When did they arrive?" he asked.

"Ten o'clock a.m. local time," she said.

"That's really very helpful," he said. "How are they?"

"Dr. Quest is quite well," she said, then paused.

"And Jonny?" Race demanded.

"He's hurt," she said slowly. "He has a bad gash in his leg, and –"

"We have Dr. Pascale's report on his condition at the time he left the first facility."

"Oh." She paused again. "Dr. Pascale is dead."

"Yes, I know. We found the report on her body."

In a whisper so low he could barely hear her, she said, "I think Crandall killed her."

"I'm sure he did," Race said. "She left a message for us."

"Ohhh!" She was silent for a moment. "He's still in charge of the project. She meant to have him removed, but . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"How is Jonny?" Race asked again. "Has anything happened since the move?"

"Since then he, well," She hesitated and Race had to resist the urge to yell at her to just spit it out. "I'm not sure. His ribs are either badly bruised or he may have one or two cracked. We don't have a new doctor yet, and I'm not trained to use the X-Ray machine."

"How did he get hurt?" Race asked, struggling to keep his voice calm.

"Someone was stupid," she said. Then, her voice sharper with anxiety, she added, "I can't stay on. Someone could come in here at any time."

"Please, tell me more," Race said, trying to keep her on the line. "How are they? Not just physically."

"I have to go, there are footsteps coming down the hall." And there was a click and the line went dead. Race shut off his phone and glanced up at the sign waver who shrugged.

"Sorry, not enough time."

Race nodded and left, going in search of Phil who was, in his own words, babysitting the satellite team. One look at Race's expression, and Phil followed him out into the hall. "What is it?"

"I just got a call, supposedly from that medical assistant, Patricia."

"What? Did you trace it?"

"I couldn't keep her on long enough."

"Damn! What did she want? Was it another call like the one to Hadji yesterday?" Phil had been livid when he heard about the attempt to manipulate Hadji.

"No. She claimed she wanted to help. Asked me to see to it that her mother was moved to somewhere that the corporation couldn't find her."

"Her mother?" Race nodded. "Do you buy it?"

"I think we'd better check it out. Her name is Penelope Miller, and I wrote down her address here." He handed Phil the paper. "Also, she said that Dr. Quest and Jonny are being held on an island south of the Equator, near the International Date Line. And that they landed at ten a.m. local time."

Phil gazed at the page in front of him, the nodded. "I'll send someone to fetch Mrs. Miller," he said. "And we'll focus some attention on planes in that vicinity around that time." Corvin pulled out his phone and gave the necessary orders, then said, "What else, Race? I can tell there's something."

"Jonny may have cracked ribs, now. She says they're either badly bruised or cracked."

"Hell!"

"And there's no telling what she didn't mention."

"Well, I sure hope she's on the up and up. Maybe you're right. Maybe we'd better have a little chat with Mrs. Penelope Miller."


	17. Testing

Jonny was sitting on the couch, playing Civilization on the PlayStation. He was aiming towards winning by the space race route. When the door opened, he looked up to see who was coming in, expecting it to be Patricia.

Crandall entered, followed by Patricia and Chris. The game controller fell out of his hands. _They brought the medic with them?_ _That should save time,_ he thought, mild panic beginning to build. _What did Dad do?_

Patricia was carrying a box, but Jonny didn't really look at it. He just stood up, wincing, and waited for Crandall to say something.

"Good morning, Jonathon," he said. It wasn't a direct question, so Jonny didn't say anything. "You know, it's proper to say good morning in return," Crandall said after a moment.

Jonny nodded. "Yes, sir. Good morning."

"Ah, good. I'd been told you'd be a quick study." Jonny knit his brows. What did he want? He seemed almost friendly this morning. "It's time for you to take your aptitude test. Now, I understand that you're not feeling well, and if you do poorly, we'll re-administer the test at a later date. Still, it would be better if you did your best now."

Jonny nodded again. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Where do you want to set up, Patricia?" Crandall asked.

"Right here will be fine for the first part," she said, walking over to the chair next to the sofa. "Save your game, Jonny."

Jonny had trouble reaching for the controller on the floor, and Crandall walked over to pick it up for him. "Here you go," he said. Jonny took it, feeling as if he'd walked into some kind of alternate reality where Crandall was Mister Rogers. He saved his game and turned off the machine. Crandall sat in the other chair and Chris stood by the door. Jonny was glad it was Chris and not Marcus in here today. Bandit came running in, barking, and made for Crandall. Jonny jumped up, letting out a whimper, which he stifled as best he could.

"Let me put him in the kitchen," he said quickly.

"Of course," Crandall said affably.

Jonny got Bandit to go into the kitchen, and remembered his manners. "Can I get anyone something to drink?" he asked. They all said no, so Jonny walked slowly back over to the sofa. "What do I have to do?" he asked.

Patricia started explaining the first part of the test to him, and Jonny really tried to pay attention, but he couldn't concentrate. He kept glancing over at Crandall and Chris, wondering what they would do if he answered the questions wrong. When they'd been at it for about a half an hour, Patricia stopped and turned to Crandall.

"Sir, this isn't going to work." Jonny hunched, waiting for the blow to fall.

"Why not?" Crandall asked, his voice still amiable. Jonny wondered if Patricia had given him some kind of happy pill.

"He's having trouble concentrating. I think your presence is making him nervous." She smiled at Jonny who just sat, feeling miserable and stupid. "You have a great deal of power over him, sir, and naturally a man of your presence is a distraction."

"I suppose," Crandall said thoughtfully. "What solution do you suggest?"

"I could take him to his father's lab. Having Dr. Quest around would probably steady him, and I imagine he would be more comfortable in an unfamiliar place if his father was nearby."

Crandall seemed to think this over for a minute, and Jonny watched him, hoping that he wasn't just playing cat and mouse, just acting all friendly to get Jonny off his guard. "You could be right, Patricia. You do as you think best. I'll check on you in a few hours." He stood up. "Don't forget to stop for lunch."

Jonny watched him leave, then turned back to find Patricia gathering up the supplies to put them back in the box. He didn't say anything, because he wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to go and see his father, but Crandall's behavior was so unexpected that he wasn't sure what to think of it.

"Come on, Jonny," Patricia said, putting out a hand. Uncertain of how to react, he took it and walked with her out into the hallway. Chris followed behind him, and Jonny remembered her automatic, unthinking response that Chris wouldn't kill him, wondering why she was so sure.

It took about fifteen minutes to walk to where his father was working, and Jonny looked around, watching for landmarks so he could find his way back later if he had to. There was a different guard on the door, someone Jonny hadn't seen before, and he wondered where Marcus was. It made him nervous, not knowing where he was.

Patricia opened the door and ushered him in. His father was across the room, looking through a microscope. Jonny wanted to run over to him, but he hurt too much. He just said, "Dad?" and hobbled toward him.

* * *

Benton had expected to find Crandall in the lab when he arrived, but the lab was empty. He set right to work, determined to ask Crandall when he did arrive if he could have Jonny join him here. After yesterday, he didn't want Jonny out of his sight if he could help it.

He was further exploring the possibilities suggested by the work he'd done the night before when the door opened. He didn't immediately look up, but when he heard Jonny's voice he turned instantly.

"Dad?"

"Jonny?" Benton walked over to greet him, then noticed Patricia standing by the door behind him, and Chris, shutting them in. "What's happened? Is something wrong?"

"No, Dr. Quest," Patricia said. "It's just time for Jonny's aptitude tests, and I thought he'd be more comfortable with you nearby.

Benton looked down at Jonny, who was looking pale and scared. "But nothing untoward has happened?"

"Nothing untoward," Patricia said. "Crandall and I went to see Jonny this morning, and since Jonny was having some trouble concentrating, we decided it might be better to give the tests here."

Benton nodded. "There's a table in the corner there you could use, though I think you might want to put Jonny's leg up."

"Yes, Dr. Quest," Patricia agreed. She walked over and got Jonny settled. A few moments later, she came back and stood by Benton. "Dr. Quest?" He looked down into her earnest face. "It's extremely important that Jonny do well on these tests," she said.

"Oh?"

"A higher score could give him some measure of protection," she said softly. "It's very important for his future, and in determining what he's suited for."

Benton nodded slowly. "I see." And indeed he did. If Jonny scored well on these tests, it would gain him status of his own within the corporation, and the attention it would bring could limit Crandall's abuses. He glanced over and saw that Jonny was sitting stiffly in the chair, looking out a window, his expression unusually solemn.

"Could you encourage him to try his best?"

Benton nodded and walked over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. Jonny looked over at him and grinned weakly. "What are you working on?" he asked, glancing over at the workstation Benton had just left.

"Night vision," Benton said. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "So, these aptitude tests." Jonny turned back, knitting his brows together. "I want you to give them all you've got." Jonny blinked perplexedly and started to speak. Benton shook his head and leaned closer. "Patricia says it could be really important and _helpful_." He placed a little extra emphasis on that last word.

Jonny nodded, though he still looked a little confused. "Okay, Dad, if you say so."

"I do." He stood up and put his hand on Jonny's head, gently tousling his hair.

Benton listened with half an ear to the quiet murmurs from the corner. Jonny calmed as they went through the various stages of testing, and Benton was glad to see him slowly relax and start to seem like himself.

At half past twelve, a man came in pushing a cart. Benton noticed Jonny looking over at it hopefully, but Patricia said, "Five minutes more, then we can take a break." Jonny sighed and nodded. Benton, smiling to himself at the appetite of the adolescent boy, waited to get his food until they took their break so as not to distract his son any further.

Patricia left the room altogether while they ate, and Jonny watched her go with a confused expression. "I don't get her," he said after she'd been gone a few minutes.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, how can she like the corporation?" Jonny asked. "How can she believe that they didn't kill her sister? She's not stupid."

Benton sighed. "Denial can be a very powerful thing, Jonny. When a person faced with unpleasant truths, sometimes it's just easier to pretend they do not exist."

"Do you think they told her that her sister was just sick?"

"Probably. She was very young, and they undoubtedly didn't want to frighten her."

"But, surely after all this time – "

Benton hook his head. "Jonny, she is trapped here, in the corporation. How could she face the notion that she's working for – and possibly with – the people who killed her sister? It's no doubt easier for her to simply accept the lie at face value than to examine it."

Jonny sighed. "I guess."

"People believe quite a lot of lies to make themselves feel more comfortable." Benton noticed that Jonny's eyes were getting that distant look that suggested that his father's lecture had gone on long enough. Benton changed the subject. "So, did you get a look at the garden?"

"No. I didn't feel like asking to have the door unlocked, so I just played a game." _Translation_ , Benton thought, _he hadn't wanted to annoy anyone, like Marcus._ He resolved to address the issue with Crandall later. Jonny needed fresh air and sunshine. In the meantime, he was looking shuttered and withdrawn again.

Benton leaned back in his chair and stretched. "Which mind-numbing disc did you put in that little box?" he asked, earning a spark of amused ire from his son.

"Civilization, Dad," Jonny said, then added defensively, "and even you have to agree that's got some educational value."

Benton nodded judiciously. That particular game had more than one route to victory, and some were more educational than others to Benton's mind. "Yes, but which path were you taking to win?"

"I was shooting for the Mars colony, but I'm kind of mired down at the Industrial Revolution." Jonny took a bite of salad and then said wryly, "That game sure doesn't favor democracy. You can't get anywhere with that form of government. When I start up again I'm going to start a civil war and return to monarchy."

Benton raised an eyebrow. "Intriguing. I'm not sure how realistic that is."

Jonny grinned. "It's just hard to keep all those people happy."

This was better, Benton thought, smiling back. Jonny seemed more himself. They continued chatting about the game. One of the real problems with this situation was that it didn't leave them very many safe topics for talk. They managed, however, to skirt all the conversational pitfalls, and Jonny was laughing when the door opened and Patricia came back. He sobered as soon as he heard the sound of the door, but his face relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Have you finished your lunch?" she asked.

Benton nodded and stood up. "I'd better get back to work," he said.

* * *

Race and Diana pulled up outside 487 Maple Manor Lane. Clarksville was a small town that was in danger of being swallowed up by suburbs, and Maple Manor Lane was a street in a subdivision at the outskirts of that town. One day it might be shady, but for now all the trees were held erect by sticks.

The kids were not thrilled to have been left behind in Washington with Estella, but Race wasn't taking any chances with them. He got out of the car and walked around to join Diana. "What exactly are we going to say to this woman?" she asked.

"I plan to play it by ear," Race said, smiling at her. She gave him a dubious look, but followed him gamely up to the front door. He knocked on the door and waited.

The woman who came to the door strongly resembled the medical assistant he'd seen on the video footage. Her blond hair was shot through with gray, and her face was lined. She looked up at them, tilting her head curiously. "Are you Race Bannon?" she asked.

Race found himself gaping at her in shock. Before he regained his composure, Diana stepped forward. "Yes, he is, and I'm Diana McCormick. May we come in?"

"I think you'd better," she said, backing up. They walked in and she closed the door behind them. "I got a call from my daughter last night. She told me to pack and that someone would be coming to take me away." She looked up at Race. "Would you mind telling me what's going on? Please? Are you with the corporation?"

Race was still having trouble with vocalization. Diana threw him a puzzled glance, and answered Mrs. Miller's last question. "No, ma'am. I'm a police officer from Nova Scotia, and Mr. Bannon, well, he –" She broke off, looking at Race.

"Have you been watching the news?" he asked, and she nodded. "Then have you heard about the disappearance of the Quest family?"

"Dr. Benton Quest? Of course, I was –" She clapped her hand to her mouth. "My God, they didn't – they wouldn't!"

"They did," Race said sourly. "I'm Jonny's bodyguard. Patricia called me and asked me to come collect you."

She nodded. "Then we'd better get going, Mr. Bannon. Those bastards at the corporation need to be stopped once and for all."

"Yes, ma'am," Race said, stunned by her reaction. He exchanged a glance with Diana, whose expression mirrored his.

"My bags are in the hall," she said. "If you could –"

"Of course, ma'am." Race followed her and picked up her luggage. She had evidently taken Patricia at her word, for there were three suitcases and a large box. Race picked up the box and two suitcases, leaving Diana to get the other one and they went out to load up the car.

* * *

Patricia wrapped up the testing around three, and Benton wondered what that meant. Was she going to take Jonny back to their rooms now? Or could he stay? She sat talking with Jonny for a few minutes, and Benton glanced over. He was smiling, telling her some story, and she was laughing.

He was glad to see Jonny in good spirits despite his pain, and clearly developing a rapport with Patricia was proving beneficial to them. Benton watched them for a few moments, wishing that they were all back at the Quest compound in Maine, Patricia, included. He really believed the things he'd said to Jonny earlier. She was as much a victim as they were. A five-year-old child whose parents had been frightened into submission had no defense against what she was told, and survival instincts alone would have told her that arguing with her elders wasn't wise.

The door opened abruptly, and without turning to look, Benton felt sure he knew who had come in. Jonny's bruised face went blank and still, and all the life went out of his posture. Patricia looked up with a practiced smile. Benton turned. "Good afternoon, Mr. Crandall," he said.

Crandall ignored him completely, turning instead to Patricia. "Have you finished the tests?" he demanded irritably. Chris took a position next to the door, face blank as always.

Patricia stood quickly. "Yes, sir, just now."

"Well, then, shouldn't you be scoring the portions that are your responsibility?"

"Of course, sir." Patricia rapidly repacked the testing materials. "Do you wish me to take the boy back to his room, sir?" she asked as she prepared to leave.

"You've wasted enough time already," he snapped. "Get moving."

She left with understandable haste, and Benton started working again quickly before Crandall could take exception to his pause. The man walked over to him and watched him minutely for a few moments. "How is your work coming, Dr. Quest?" he asked.

"Fairly well," Benton said and showed him what he'd been working on and the notes he'd been making on what had worked and what hadn't.

Crandall picked up the notes and fiddled with them for a few moments. Benton thought he seemed oddly fidgety. Dropping the papers back on the counter, he said, "I had hoped to see more progress by now." He glanced around the room, and Benton saw his eyes light on Jonny. "No doubt you've been distracted." Jonny was looking out the window, and didn't seem to have realized that Crandall's attention was on him.

"Not really," Benton started, trying to distract the man, but he stopped speaking when Crandall turned an irate glare in his direction.

"Are you contradicting me, Dr. Quest?" he demanded icily. Jonny froze at the tone of Crandall's voice and turned slowly to watch with wide eyes. Benton stood still, unable to think of a response to the sudden attack. Gazing over at the corner where Jonny was hunched miserably on his chair, Crandall went on in scathing tones. "It was necessary to bring your little boy here to give him any chance of scoring well on the aptitude tests." Benton saw Jonny wince at the phrase 'little boy.' His clenched hands rested on the table in front of him, and Benton could see that the knuckles were white.

"I haven't been distracted, really," Benton said quietly, striving to sound submissive even while telling the man he was wrong. "Truly, it would be more distracting to have him elsewhere."

"Well, I can see why he's such a pathetic specimen if you baby him like this all the time." Benton bit down on the angry retort that he wanted to make, praying that Jonny would understand that he had no choice. Crandall strolled over toward Jonny, who sat stiffly in his chair, staring straight ahead. "He needs discipline." He looked down at Jonny for a moment, then turned back to Benton with a malicious smile. "You both do. I'm going to take young Jonathon back to your rooms, now."

Benton stared at him, appalled, but unable to come up with a way out of this that wouldn't anger Crandall more and guarantee that Jonny would get hurt.

"Dr. Quest, I really believe that you should get back to work now," Crandall said, gesturing with his head toward Benton's workstation.

"It's okay, Dad," Jonny said suddenly, standing up. "I'll go with him." Benton looked worriedly at his son who gave him a weak smile. The cut on his lip was healing, and the bruises on his face had started to fade. He didn't want to give Crandall any reason to add new ones to Jonny's tally.

Crandall turned on Jonny, though, and put his hand on the back of his neck. "Did anyone ask you a question, young man?" he asked in deceptively mild tones.

"No, sir," Jonny said, his eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry, sir." His son really wasn't small for his age, but Crandall dwarfed him.

The big man gave the boy a small shake, and Benton saw Jonny wince slightly. "Remember that, next time." Then he released him. "Come along, we'd better leave your father to his work."

Jonny threw him a look as he turned to go, and Benton gave him a quick smile, hoping Crandall wouldn't notice. Twenty minutes before, Jonny had been himself again, laughing and telling Patricia some story about him and Hadji. Benton's heart broke to see him so quiet and frightened. And he hated to see him go anywhere alone with that Crandall fellow.

Oh, wait, he wasn't alone, one of Crandall's goons was going, too. Swell. Benton turned back to his work, well aware that if he fell behind, Crandall would be all too eager to take it out on his son.

* * *

Jonny walked along with Crandall on his left side. He stiffened when the man laid his hand on the back of his neck again as they approached the stairs. "Is this where Marcus pushed you?" he asked.

Giving him a sidelong look, Jonny said, "Yes, sir."

"I see." They climbed the first few steps in silence. "That wasn't supposed to happen. Marcus shouldn't have hurt you." Jonny tried not to give the man an astonished look, figuring that he might be annoyed by that, but he was flabbergasted. "If Marcus ever does something like that again, hurts you when he's not supposed to, you must come and tell me." Jonny gulped, wondering how he was expected to tell when Marcus wasn't supposed to hurt him. "Well, Jonathon?"

Belatedly, Jonny realized that Crandall's instructions required a response. "Yes, sir," he said hastily.

"Good boy." Crandall walked him the rest of the way back to his quarters with his hand on the back of Jonny's neck, making Jonny very edgy. Chris opened the door for them, and Crandall guided Jonny in, letting the door fall shut behind them, leaving them alone together.

A brief pressure on Jonny's shoulder stopped him from walking any further, and, made nervous by Crandall's presence, he turned to look up into his face. Crandall was looking down at him with an odd expression. "What I don't understand, Jonathon, is why you didn't tell anyone that you'd been hurt," Crandall said in an aggrieved sort of tone. "That you didn't tell anyone that Marcus had hurt you when he shouldn't have."

Jonny gulped again. "I didn't know he shouldn't have," he said.

The man seized Jonny's chin in a painfully tight grip. "Don't lie to me, boy!" he said fiercely, leaning close to Jonny's face. "And don't try to put the blame off onto somebody else!" he added, shaking Jonny's head.

It was suddenly too much, and Jonny panicked. Up till now, he'd been suppressing the reactions that Race had trained into him because it wasn't safe to attack men who had guns aimed at his father. But his father wasn't here, and Crandall was so close and so angry that Jonny lost his head.

_Use your opponent's weight against him._ Using moves that had been drilled into him until they were almost instinctive, Jonny shifted and heaved, and Crandall flew across the room into the table that stood behind the sofa. The table collapsed and the sofa was shoved forward a few feet.

Jonny stared at him in horror, wondering what Crandall would do to him for something like this. The big man sat up shaking his head, then turned a glare on Jonny that made him want to run and duck for cover. But there was nowhere to run. None of the doors inside the suite locked, and Jonny couldn't get through the doors that did lock.

Slowly, the man got to his feet, gazing malevolently at him. When he started toward him, Jonny backed up until he hit the wall beside the door, then slid down the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" he said, staring hopelessly up at the angry man. "I didn't mean to. I didn't think."

Crandall stopped and looked down at him, eyes narrowed. "Don't you ever do that again, Jonathon Quest!"

"I won't, I'm sorry."

There was a knocking at the door that distracted Crandall. "Yes?" he said.

Chris opened the door. "The plane is here, sir." Crandall glared at him. "You asked to be informed, Mr. Crandall."

"Thank you," Crandall snapped. Chris shut the door again, and Crandall looked down at Jonny. Reaching down, he grabbed him around the upper arm and yanked him to his feet. Pain lanced through his ribcage, and Jonny gasped. He stood, struggling for breath, which only made the pain worse. Crandall gave him a shove on the back, which sent another shaft of pain through him. "Clean up this mess!" he commanded, pointing toward the broken table and its scattered contents. Then he flung the door open and left.

Jonny stared at the splinters of wood on the floor. He couldn't. He just couldn't bend down and pick those up right now.

Before Patricia had left this morning, after taping his ribs, she'd told him to call her if he got hurt again, however it happened. That it was her job to see to it that he wasn't in any more pain than could be helped. His ribs hurt again, more than they had since she taped them. He walked slowly over to the phone and picked it up.

The phone on the other end rang twice, and then the familiar voice said, "Infirmary."

"Patricia?" he said, trying to sound normal.

He must have failed, because her voice got very worried. "Jonny, what's wrong?"

"Nothing too bad," Jonny said. "Mr. Crandall yanked on my arm, and my ribs hurt more than they did."

"I'll be there shortly, Jonny. Just sit down quietly and don't try to do too much, okay?"

Jonny hung up and sat down in the chair by the phone. When he felt tears start streaming down his face, he just let them. Crandall was going to kill him now for sure. How could he have been so stupid?

A few minutes later, the door opened and Patricia came in. She looked in wide-eyed astonishment at the broken table, then ran to Jonny's side. "What did he do? Where are you hurt?"

"I told you," Jonny said. "He yanked on my arm."

"What broke the table?" she asked.

He just shook his head. "My ribs hurt."

The door opened again and Jonny started to his feet, expecting Crandall. His father came running in, looking panicked. When he saw the debris from the table and the way the sofa had been moved, his face went pale. "Jonny?" he exclaimed, running over. "What did that bastard do to you?"

Much to his humiliation, Jonny started crying again and couldn't manage to speak. Patricia gently pushed his father away, then peeled his shirt off him and looked him over, running her fingers over his ribs. "I don't find any further damage, nothing out of alignment." Jonny was still gasping with sobs, pain surging with every inhalation, and couldn't speak. He hugged his father. Crandall was right, he was pathetic.

The door opened again, sending Jonny's heart racing, but the man who entered wasn't familiar. He was shorter than Crandall, and not as heavily built. His hair was brown shot through with silver, and his eyes were blue. Chris followed him in. Jonny made an effort to control himself, but he couldn't do it. He just buried his face in his father's chest.

"My God, what's been happening here?" the man exclaimed, looking at the wreckage.

Patricia looked up and said, "Crandall seems set on beating this boy to death." Her voice was angry, and Jonny moved closer to his father, wondering what was going to happen next.

"Will somebody please give me specifics about what took place?" the man said slowly, a slight edge to his voice that made Jonny very nervous.

"I don't know exactly," Patricia said. "Jonny hasn't told us."

The man was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Dr. Quest?"

"I wasn't here, either," he said, shaking his head.

"What? That makes no sense." Jonny sneaked a peek at the man and saw that he was glaring at his father. Jonny felt a rush of anger that he quickly suppressed.

"No, I must say, the brutal beating of a twelve-year-old boy makes no sense whatsoever to me," his father said.

Patricia put a restraining hand on his father's arm, and said, "I'm afraid that Mr. Crandall has not been following the rules very closely, sir."

"Who are you?" Jonny's father asked.

The man blinked in surprise. "I am sorry. I should have introduced myself immediately." He took a deep breath and said, "My name is Oscar Morgan. Mr. Crandall has been recalled to headquarters, and I am replacing him here for the time being."

"Crandall's gone?" his father asked, and Jonny felt his heart quicken.

"The plane left ten minutes ago."

"I see." His father's hug tightened, and Jonny let out an involuntary whimper. "Oh, Jonny, I'm sorry."

Jonny didn't want his dad to pull away, but he did. Patricia guided him to sit down and gave him some pills with a cup of water. "Take these. They should lessen the pain for you."

He did as he was told, looking dubiously up at Mr. Morgan. He looked like somebody's grandfather, not like a replacement for Crandall.

"Dr. Quest, why don't you take Jonny into one of the private rooms and get him cleaned up and calmed down a little. We'll get the room out here straightened up, and we can have a little talk later."

"All right," his father said slowly. "Come on, Jonny." He helped him to his feet and, putting an arm around Jonny's shoulders, he led him back into the master bedroom of the suite, sitting him down on a stool in the bathroom. Jonny looked at the mess his face was in and sniffled. The swelling of his eye and cheek had mostly gone down, but now they were turning a shade of yellowy green that was kind of nauseating.

Wetting a washcloth and kneeling down in front of him, his father started gently washing his face. "Can you tell me what happened, Jonny?" he asked softly. "I really need to know."

* * *

Benton looked earnestly into his son's face. "Please tell me," he said.

Jonny sighed and looked, of all things, embarrassed. "He got mad because I didn't tell anyone that Marcus pushed me, but then he grabbed my face and I got scared."

"You got scared?" Benton stroked Jonny's hair, wishing he could take all this pain and fear away. "What happened?"

"I threw him," Jonny said, looking down at his feet. Benton's jaw dropped, but he caught himself and closed it again. That hadn't been what he had expected. "I didn't mean to," Jonny went on. "I just panicked. He was really angry, but before he did anything, Chris came in and told him that the plane had landed."

"Then what happened?"

"He yanked me up off the floor, and –"

"How did you wind up on the floor?"

Jonny flushed and looked away. "I sort of slid down the wall. He was so angry, and I knew I couldn't do anything to defend myself because he'd just be angrier, so I just kind of –" Jonny shrugged, his eyes on his feet.

Benton put his hand very gently under Jonny's chin, making him look up. "There is nothing wrong with you, Jonny. Don't let anything Crandall said get to you." Jonny's eyes were tearing up again. "No matter what he said, you are not pathetic. You've stood up against Zin and dozens of other villains."

"Yeah, but I never –" Jonny stopped, seeming to be at a loss for words.

"We've never been in this bad a spot before, Jonny. Race has always found us pretty quickly." He gazed deeply into Jonny's eyes, willing him to believe what he was saying. "Being scared is normal in a situation like this."

"You're not, are you?"

Benton tried never to lie to his sons, no matter how awful the truth might be. "Yes, Jonny, I am." Jonny gulped. "I've been scared plenty of times, though. There's nothing wrong with being scared."

"I bet Race doesn't get scared."

"Not so, Jonny. We all get scared from time to time. It's normal to be frightened in a fearful situation." Benton wished he could use Crandall for a punching bag. He was normally not a violent man, but Crandall had aroused an enormous amount of animosity in him.

"Well, that's all that happened, except that he told me to clean up the mess."

Benton finished wiping away Jonny's tears and gave him a hug. A very gentle hug. "I love you, Jonny."

"I love you, too," Jonny said, hugging back. Then he sighed. "I miss Hadji. He always knows what to say. It's easier to cope with being scared if there's someone doing it with you."

Benton hugged his younger son. Jonny and Hadji had been close ever since the day, years ago, when Hadji had saved Benton's life in Calcutta. They were not only brothers, but they were best friends, having been through thick and thin together. Over the years, things had changed a bit between them, especially as they entered their teen years. Hadji was nearly two years older than Jonny, but the essential closeness had never wavered.

Squeezing Jonny very gently, he said, "I know what you mean."


	18. Abnormal Tactics

Penelope Miller sat in the middle of Corvin's office, a determined expression on her face. Race knew that, like him, Phil had expected to have to persuade some fearful little old lady to help them out. Instead, she was on a crusade all her own.

"All right, what do you want to know about that foul organization?" she asked calmly. "I can tell you to start off with that I don't know where any of the facilities are."

"Anything you can tell us," Phil said. "Why don't you start with your own story?"

Penelope leaned back in her chair, a pensive look on her face. "I've never talked about this," she said. "I don't suppose you have any tissue handy?"

Diana walked over and fetched a box from a side table. "Can I get you something to drink, ma'am?"

"I'm fine, dear," she said, taking the box and smiling at Diana. Looking down at her hands, she sighed. "Twenty-five years ago, my husband Peter and I were in a terrible bind. I was a computer programmer, but we had two young daughters and I had elected to stay at home. Peter was working at a psychiatric hospital that was attached to a university, doing research on drugs that would help people with things like schizophrenia and bipolar disorder." Her mouth twisted. "As you probably know, there were cuts in the budgets of all mental health facilities at about that time. Peter was very junior, no seniority at all, and he was let go. He got a night job with a dry cleaner, and I had to work during the days as a data entry operator. Pamela was eight and Patricia was five."

"Where's Pamela now?" Race asked. Patricia hadn't mentioned a sister.

"I'll get to that in good time," Penelope said, giving him an unreadable look. "Why don't you sit down, young man?"

Race pulled up a chair, turned it backwards, sat across it and tried to relax, though it was difficult. He knew that there were others searching the region Patricia had outlined for them, others who were better suited than he, but it still felt wrong to be sitting here, listening to a story, when he could be out looking.

When he was settled, Penelope took up the tale again. "We were low on money, and the bank was foreclosing on our house, and we didn't have anywhere to go. Neither of us had any family." She shrugged. "One night, people came into our house and knocked us all out with some sedative or another, and we woke up in an intake suite. A man called Aaron Smith came to see us and explained that we were both extraordinary people being wasted in trivial jobs." She snorted. "We agreed, who wouldn't? But that didn't explain what had happened." She shook her head. "They took our girls away for medical examinations and gave us each job descriptions to look over."

"What were they?" Corvin asked.

Shrugging, Penelope said, "Pretty much what you'd expect, I'd imagine. I was to be a programmer, junior as hell, but still actually writing programs and putting them into effect. Peter was to be a biopsychological researcher. He had his M.D., and master's degrees in psychology and chemistry. It certainly seemed a step up from mixing the chemicals used to dry clean clothes.

"Peter was dubious, however, and so was I. We weren't sure about a business that recruited through abduction. However, they mentioned that Pamela might have to be brought in to persuade us and we got the picture fairly quickly.

"Over the next couple of months, we started work at the facility they sent us to once we were past intake. Pamela and Patricia started school, made friends, and we settled into a routine. We worked days, and got to spend time with the girls, and all our needs were more than taken care of."

"I sense a 'but,'" Diana said.

"Oh, yes. Aside from all the little things, like not being about to go anywhere outside the corporation's direct influence, there was a great big whopping 'but.'" Penelope sighed. "Peter was given a new research project, one he couldn't square with his conscience." She got an intent expression on her face. "You've got to understand, the corporation exists for profit, but there's also a sort of culture to it. Everything you do is for the good of the corporation, and the corporation takes care of you, and you don't ask questions. You certainly don't say that something they've asked you to do is wrong, and that you won't do it."

"Which is what Peter did," Phil said.

She nodded, and plucked a tissue from the box. "I don't know what the project was. Peter never told me, and I'm just as glad he didn't. I wouldn't want to hear about it on the news and know . . ." She squared her shoulders. "The first time Peter refused, they came and got Pamela and twisted her arm a little." Tears had started flowing, but they were quiet tears, and she ignored them. "It persuaded him at first, but whatever the project was, Peter just couldn't do it. He'd go along for a while, then he'd come to an obstacle. They'd hurt Pamela and he'd go back to work. It was terrible." She took in a deep breath and sighed. "Pamela didn't really understand, though she had some inkling that her father wasn't doing what he was told. We told Patricia that she was sick, and she didn't ask any questions." Wiping her eyes, she kept going. "Finally, they actually broke her arm, and Peter realized that he couldn't keep refusing. He spent the next several weeks in a dreadful state of depression, but what made it worse was that Pam started getting sicker and sicker. Finally, the doctors realized that there was a blood clot loose in her system, but before they could do anything about it, she died."

"My God," Corvin breathed.

"They were all very apologetic, dreadfully sorry. That wasn't supposed to happen, after all. And Peter never even contemplated refusing to do anything ever again." She shook her head. "I know that the blood clot may not have been their fault, that sometimes these things happen. But I prefer to blame them. Certainly the odds are in favor of it being their responsibility. We never told Patricia precisely what happened. It was safer for her that she not know. But, much as I've always wanted grandchildren, I have discouraged her from marrying too young, and from starting a family too soon. She's thirty now, and unmarried."

"How long did it take to escalate to the broken arm?" Race asked.

"From the first time they hurt her till the day they broke her arm, seventy-eight days."

_So firm a figure_ , Race thought. _And she didn't even have to think about it._ "Did you ever hear of a case where it took less time to get to that level of 'persuasion'?" he asked.

"It wasn't something that was discussed, Mr. Bannon," she said. "But I never saw a child's injuries escalate from the early levels to something as serious as a broken arm any faster than that."

Race shook his head. "Jonny's been there less than a week, and he already has broken ribs."

"What? What's his father doing?" She paused, eyes wide with shock, then shook her head, an appalled expression on her face. "Listen to me, now I'm doing it. It invades every thought after a while. But what's going on? That's insane."

"As far as we can tell, and we have video footage, Dr. Quest is cooperating as well as he can," Phil said.

"Then why – what can they be thinking of?"

"Well, according to Dr. Pascale, the man in charge is doing everything wrong, so that matches your reaction," Race said. "But –"

"Lucy Pascale?" Penelope asked. Race nodded. "You've spoken with her?"

"No, ma'am." Race grimaced. "She's dead. We found the video footage on a disc on her body."

"Oh, I see." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "How did she die?"

"We believe she was murdered. By the man in charge of the operation, one Theodore Crandall."

"Patricia never sounded thrilled about working with him, though she was never specific about why."

"Maybe it's because he's a sadistic jackass," Race suggested.

Penelope's brows knit. "Then he's not the sort of man they usually put in charge of this kind of operation."'

"Really?" Race asked dubiously. "How do you get another sort of man to go along with it?"

She shook her head. "You don't understand the culture.. The handlers genuinely believe that what they're doing is right." She sighed. "For a long time I blamed Aaron personally for Pam's death, and I couldn't figure out how a man with young children of his own could do such a thing." Her eyes seemed to be gazing on something very distant. "Then, one day a few years later, I ran into him with his eldest son. The boy was eleven, and he had a large bruise on his forearm, and I asked him how he'd gotten it, you know the way you do." They all nodded. "Joey just shrugged and turned away. I stood up and looked at Aaron, who wouldn't meet my eye. To this day I don't know what he did or didn't do to cause that punishment, but that was when I realized that everyone, even those born into the company as Aaron was, were in the same trap. The only difference was that Aaron didn't know it was a trap, and I did."

"Wow," Diana said into the silence that followed this.

"Inside the corporation, the person who is blamed when that sort of punishment is delivered is the parent who refused to cooperate. Aaron didn't meet my gaze that day because he felt guilty that he had done something that caused his supervisor to require punishment."

She snorted wryly. "One of the people I worked with once said that the corporation's system was very humane." Race raised his eyebrows, appalled not merely by the statement itself, but by the singular lack of tact. "Oh, she didn't know about Pamela," Penelope said. "She had quite a lot to say before some of the other programmers managed to hush her."

"How did she justify such an incredible claim?" Diana asked.

"Ah, yes, well, according to her, there are many adults who, if threatened themselves, would not give in, and might allow themselves to be beaten to death. Threaten their child, however, and most parents will cave almost immediately. When she realized the faux pas she'd made, she apologized. Everyone was very sorry for me, for having such a foolishly stubborn husband."

Race leaned forward. "I am sorry to be asking questions that must bring up terribly painful memories for you, but do you mind answering a few more?"

"Young man, don't worry about me. I'm old and tough, and I've lived with this a long time. Go on and ask your questions."

Race grimaced. "Would you find it normal for a child to be struck across the face as the first step in punishing the father?"

She tilted her head. "Did it leave a mark?"

Race gulped, finding himself suddenly unable to speak. Fortunately Phil didn't have that problem. "It split his lip and blacked his eye."

Her eyes widened. "No, never!" She shook her head. "I can see a slap, perhaps, but nothing that caused a long term injury. I'd think that a guard who did something that severe that early would be reprimanded, possibly even suspended."

"It wasn't the guard," Race ground out. "It was Crandall himself."

"He really has lost it, then," Penelope said in a startled voice. "The handler never touches the children, that's a solemn rule, as far as I know. Aaron never laid a hand on either Pamela or Patricia, not even a friendly hand."

"Would you expect one of these 'handlers' to discipline a child that was misbehaving?" Corvin asked.

"Never. The corporation leaves that up to the parents, with always the understanding that parents who don't take care of their children properly will have them taken away." Race shook his head and looked down at the floor. It was no comfort to know that Jonny and Benton were with a man who was considered abnormal even within an organization that had made child abuse an institution. "I take it that happened?" she asked.

"Oh yes," Race said.

"I wish I had more information to give you about locations," she said. "I've kept silent ever since they released me to live in the world again, knowing that they still had Patricia. I'm only speaking now because my Patty asked me to."

"Why did she?" Diana asked. "Why is she doing this?"

For a moment, Race didn't think she was going to answer, but then her face crumpled and she began to cry. They all sat there for a moment, stunned by the sudden intensity of the reaction. Then Diana got up and put an arm around her shoulder. Race looked away, meeting Phil's eyes by accident. He could tell that Corvin felt the same way he did, like he was intruding on something deeply personal.

A moment later, she had regained control, and said, "I'm sorry. I don't know. Patty said she couldn't stay on the phone very long, but that she had asked someone to come take me somewhere that the corporation wouldn't find me, and I was to tell them anything they wanted to know." She sharpened her attention on Race and said, "Crush those bastards." Her voice was harsh with tears. "Not the low level people, either, but the Board. Those men and women are hard and cold, and they're the ones who make the decisions that count."

Race looked into her determined face and hadn't the heart to tell her that, just now, all he gave a damn about was getting Jonny and Benton back.

* * *

It was several hours before a quiet knocking sounded at the door to the private section of the suite. Jonny was worn out, and Benton didn't particularly want to put him through anything more tonight. He stood up, gesturing for Jonny to stay in the bedroom, and went to the door.

Morgan stood there, an inquisitive look on his face. "Where's Jonny?" he asked.

"He's in my room," Benton said, stepping through the door and closing it behind him. "I'd just as soon let him rest, if that's all right with you, Mr. Morgan."

"He's been through a great deal, Dr. Quest. I think that's probably a good idea." Benton was mildly surprised by the easy agreement, and was caught flat-footed with a mouthful of arguments that he didn't need. "Please sit down. We need to talk."

Benton said, "I'd like to go tell Jonny I'm going to be gone for a while, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Morgan said. Benton turned immediately, not wanting to miss the opportunity. Jonny was sufficiently fragile right now that he didn't want to alarm him.

"Dad?" Jonny said, and he came into the doorway holding his side and looking worried.

"I'm going out to talk to Mr. Morgan right now. He says you can stay in here and rest."

"I want to be where you are, Dad," Jonny said.

Benton hugged him gently. "I need to talk to Mr. Morgan, but I want you to rest, Jonny. You're hurt and you need to lie down, not try to sit up and talk to someone who makes you uncomfortable."

Jonny's brows knit. "Is he going to take you away?"

"I don't think so," Benton said. "I think he just wants to talk. I'll come right back in when he's done and tell you all about it."

"Okay," Jonny said. Benton got him back to the bed and lying down. "There's a James Bond movie coming on in a little while."

"I'm disappointed I'll miss it," Benton said, spreading a blanket over his son. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"I'm good," Jonny said, trying to seem calm, but Benton could tell that he was very nervous and upset. He bent and kissed him on the forehead.

"See you in a while." Then he walked back out to where Morgan waited and Chris stood beside the outer doorway, holding his gun by his side. Benton shut the door behind him and managed a smile. "Can I offer you something to drink, Mr. Morgan?"

"No, no, thank you, Dr. Quest. Why don't we sit down and have our conversation?"

Benton walked over and sat down in one of the armchairs. "What is it you want to talk about?" he asked.

"Well, first I would like to apologize for Crandall's excessive behavior." Benton stared at Morgan, unblinking, uncertain how to take this. "I am appalled by the things he has done to your son. He should never have been permitted to take charge of this operation."

"Really?" Benton asked. "How intriguing. I'm sure that your apology will help Jonny regain his confidence." He bit his lip, realizing how he sounded. He strove for a more conciliatory note in his voice. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't complain, Mr. Morgan."

"I don't know why not," Morgan said. "You have cooperated fully, yet Crandall has been quite monstrously abusive toward your son, and created an atmosphere in which one of his subordinates felt comfortable pushing the boy hard enough to crack his ribs against a stair railing. That man has been suspended and will be severely punished for his wrongdoing."

Benton was astounded. "Do you expect me to believe this?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we've spent the last four days being terrorized. Do you really think an apology will solve the problem?"

"No, Dr. Quest, but it must be offered. Now, as to your work, I am quite impressed by what you have accomplished thus far on the night vision project. If you continue at this pace, you should be able to complete it in no time. It's clear that you've been working most diligently."

Benton pursed his lips and looked away. He couldn't help being angry. At this moment, he'd rather be with Jonny, who needed him, than talking to another jackass from the corporation.

"And as for Jonny's aptitude tests –" Morgan started, but Benton turned sharply.

"Those tests weren't valid!" he said angrily. "He was scared stiff and under a great deal of pressure."

"On the contrary, Dr. Quest. We are aware that most of the children brought into the corporation are alarmed by the sudden change in their circumstances, and the tests given to such children are designed to take that into account." Benton glared at him. They had standardized tests that had been normed on children who were under stress? Fabulous. "But as it happens, I believe you have made an inaccurate assumption."

"Have I?" Benton asked. "And what's that?"

"That Jonny scored poorly on the test." Morgan smiled and Benton found himself wondering why he seemed so pleased. "We knew from his records that he was a bright boy, and from observation that he was gifted. We did not, however, expect such high scores."

"I don't know what to say," Benton said, reflecting that this was a sort of left handed compliment. "What is your point?"

"Some thought must be given to his education. His potential is astounding." Benton stared at him, a cold chill curling in his gut. "A child such as he comes along once in a generation."

"I'm still uncertain as to what you're talking about, Mr. Morgan," Benton said uneasily. "I had understood that when these projects were complete, Jonny and I were to be released. Was that a lie?"

Morgan tilted his head. "I don't know, I haven't been told either way." He shrugged. "Either way, surely this is useful information to have."

"I suppose. May I see these results?"

"Of course, though a majority of it is raw data that requires interpreting, and not all of it is completely evaluated yet."

"No doubt there is some sort of preliminary written summary," Benton said.

"Naturally. I'll get it to you tomorrow. And there will need to be further tests, to confirm these scores and to further evaluate his potential." Benton didn't like the sound of this. From the way Morgan was talking, it sound almost as though Jonny had scored too well. "In the meantime, I think it would be wise to make sure that Jonny has something to do to keep his time occupied."

Benton nodded. Having too much time on his hands to think about his misery wasn't good for him. "He could come to the lab with me. He's always helped me in my work."

"Yes, I think that's a good idea, but I'm not sure he's up to helping with your work." Benton sighed, agreeing. "Instead, I will provide him with some reading materials. I've already arranged to have a corner of your lab turned into a more comfortable place for Jonny to sit."

Benton gritted his teeth. "I appreciate the consideration." He knew that gratitude was the appropriate response, but it was difficult,

Morgan stood, so Benton did as well. "I am sorry that Crandall has given you so poor an impression of us, Dr. Quest. I hope to ameliorate that." Benton shrugged. He didn't have anything to say. "Good night."

Benton followed him to the door like a good host. The door shut, and he lingered, listening for the click of the lock. When he heard the bolt shoot home, he sighed and turned toward the kitchen. Perhaps he and Jonny could have sort of a substitute movie night. He gathered up a few staples and went back to the master bedroom. Jonny didn't look up when he came in, but he said, "It's okay, Dad. Pierce Brosnan hasn't even met the girl yet."

"Oh, good," Benton said, amused by Jonny's priorities. "I brought HoHos, chips and root beer."

Jonny looked up and gave him a brief grin. "Cool. You did miss the explanation of the car and the gadgets, though, and it was kind of different."

Benton set the tray down on the bedside table and sat down next to Jonny on the bed. He was propped up on cushions, and looked quite comfortable. "That is a shame. I always enjoy that part."

"You just like being able to tell us which parts would work and which wouldn't," Jonny said. "And driving Race nuts."

"Well, I can't help it if I think movies should be accurate," Benton said. Jonny shuffled sideways and leaned up against him. Making sure that he wasn't hurting him, Benton draped his arm around Jonny's shoulders. "Want a soda?"

"Sure." Benton handed the drink over and they watched the movie in silence for a few minutes. Then Jonny said, "I still think I should have one of those cars, with all the gadgets that would work on it."

"No," Benton exclaimed. "You don't need a car, certainly not at your age."

"When I'm fifteen, then, and can get my learner's permit," Jonny suggested in a wheedling tone. "I know you could do the modifications."

"You don't need a car with cannons and a remote controller."

"There have been times when it might have been handy," Jonny said, giving him a look out of the corner of his eyes. "Okay, what about an ejector seat and skis! For the wheels," he added to clarify.

"No, Jonny."

"What about a parachute?"

Briefly, the thought of equipping Jonny's car with a parachute was tempting. With all the messes they got into on foot, vehicular messes were an appalling thought.

"Jonny, we'll discuss this when you're older. We have three whole years before you're old enough for your permit."

"Aw, Dad! What's the good of having a mad scientist for a father if you don't get any of the perks?" Jonny moaned.

"Mad scientist?" Benton repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"My own personal Q and you won't even give me any nifty toys."

"Jonny, you have lots of nifty toys. How many boys your age have jet packs?"

"I'm only allowed to use those with you or Race, and then only when we're on an assignment. That's work." They watched as Pierce Brosnan, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, scaled the side of a skyscraper. "I think the girl's in the penthouse," Jonny said.

"Do you like the part where he gets the girl?" Benton asked, genuinely curious. He knew that Hadji had passed the stage of groaning when adults kissed, but he wasn't sure about Jonny.

"I don't know. It depends. I like the ones who kick butt better than the ones who just cringe and scream." Jonny's eyes widened suddenly, and his face crumpled.

Benton realized abruptly what Jonny was thinking. "You threw him into a table, Jonny. That wasn't cringing."

"Yeah, but then I cowered. That's worse than cringing."

"It was probably the only thing that saved your life!" Benton said.

"So?" Jonny was hunching down miserably again.

"You are not a coward, Jonny."

"I am. Race would be ashamed of me!"

"Race might be a little annoyed that you threw the man when you probably shouldn't have," Benton said. "But he would not be ashamed of you for anything that's happened here."

Jonny took in a deep breath to sigh, but he made a pathetic sound and stiffened, straightening up. "I hate this place!" he said. "I hate the people and their stupid system! And I hate not being able to breathe right because of my stupid ribs!" He looked down at the covers. "If Race does get here, I won't be able to run."

"Don't worry, you'll have help."

Jonny sighed and leaned against him again. They watched the movie quietly for a while as Mr. Bond made his way into the penthouse. "Cool, Dad! She's one of the ones that kicks butt. Look at her go!" Benton was amused by just how much Jonny enjoyed watching the woman beat the tar out of the series of bad guys, including the one that had crept up behind James Bond while he was distracted. Idly, he contemplated the possibility of a real life counterpart to the woman in the movie.

Jessie certainly had the moves, Benton thought, glancing down at his son's rapt face. And the brains. The way those two fought and competed had already made Benton wonder about them, even if they were twelve and thirteen. This was the age where boys started noticing girls as something more than just other kids.

They watched the movie with real enjoyment, though Benton couldn't help commenting that the lasers the villains were using wouldn't work the way they were shown to in the movie.

"I know that, Dad," Jonny said scornfully. "Anyone with half a brain knows that. But it's just a movie."

"Shouldn't it be an accurate movie?" Benton said.

"Race would say that you're beating a dead horse," Jonny said, apparently unconscious of the impact that metaphor would have on his father. Benton strove to control his reaction. "Besides, the real way wouldn't have been half so exciting. And it's not like it's an educational film." Jonny laughed. "If you made the James Bond movies, they'd be half lecture and nobody would go see them."

Benton had difficulty denying the accuracy of the observation. "Yes," he said, waggling his eyebrows. Putting on a fruity, announcer's voice, he said, "We'll just pause the movie now to introduce the scientific concept you are about to see. The word for today is 'laser.'" Jonny was giving him a look that said _Adults are weird_ , and Benton was inspired to go one better. "I could actually do that with the movies we buy, you know. Just run them into IRIS's system and insert commentary sections about all the various scientific inaccuracies in the film. You know, like on DVDs where you have the director's commentary, I could add the scientific commentary."

"Dad, you're embarrassing me."

Benton raised an eyebrow, glancing around the room. "We're alone, Jonny."

"Yeah, but you're still embarrassing me."

Clapping a hand to his forehead in an exaggerated gesture of realization, Benton said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that you're at _that_ age."

"What age?" Jonny demanded, looking vaguely outraged.

"The age where parents embarrass you by their simple existence."

Jonny rolled his eyes and went back to watching the movie. It ended, as so many James Bond films do, with a passionate kiss between two people you will never see on screen together again, at least not in those roles. During the break between this movie and the next, Benton got up to get them some dinner. They had eaten the chips and the HoHos, but they needed some real sustenance.

Their dinner had arrived in the dumbwaiter. Fortunately, it was still hot, and Benton wondered how long it had been sitting there. He took the hamburgers in to Jonny and they watched the next movie, which was the _Poseidon Adventure_.

When that movie ended, the screen went dark. Benton raised an eyebrow. "If you still weren't sure that Big Brother was watching, you'd know now."

"Huh?" Jonny asked, yawning. "Whose big brother?"

"Never mind, Jonny." He tousled the blond hair and said, "Let's get you into your pajamas."

"Can I sleep in here again?"

"Of course." Jonny got up and went out. Benton stood up and stretched. He didn't want Jonny sleeping outside his immediate vicinity. He walked out into the hallway. Paranoia was rapidly taking over. He didn't even want Jonny walking down the hall in this suite without his company. Benton shrugged. He'd know he'd gone overboard when he started following his son into the bathroom.

Most of the time in this sort of situation he had the comfort of knowing that Hadji and Jonny were together, looking out for each other. He hardly dared to hope that Morgan would actually do what he'd said, and allow Jonny to join him in the lab.

Jonny seemed to be taking quite a while. Benton walked down to his room and opened the door. "Dad!" Jonny exclaimed, but the outrage was only half-hearted. He was sitting on the bed, holding his side. He was clearly having trouble getting his nightclothes on.

Benton went over and helped him get into them. They walked quietly back to the master bedroom, and he put his son to bed. Then he got undressed himself, got into his pajamas, and climbed into bed. Kissing Jonny on the forehead, he said, "Sweet dreams."

Jonny grinned up at him. "Maybe Race will be here in the morning."

"Yes. Maybe he will."

* * *

Race woke up early in the morning and slid quietly out of bed, careful not to disturb Hadji. He showered and dressed, and went back out into the bedroom. Hadji was still sleeping peacefully, and Race watched him for a few minutes, wishing that they already had Benton and Jonny back. He wasn't sure how Hadji was going to react, though, or Jessie for that matter. With what Jonny was going through, he might not be the same boy when he got back as he was when he left.

There was a ringing sound, and Race reached for his cell phone automatically, even though the ring was wrong. Then he saw Hadji's phone lying on the table beside the bed, and picked it up.

"Hello?" he said.

"May I speak with Hadji Singh, please?" said a man's tenor voice.

"I'm sorry," Race said. "He's asleep. Maybe I can take a message?"

Hadji sat up, blinking and then stared at Race talking on his phone.

"Is this Roger Bannon?"

"Yes. Who's this?"

"Mr. Bannon, I'm sure you would like to see the Quest family reunited. That is our wish as well. It's better for families to be together." Race's eyes widened and he made a beeline for the door. He doubted very much this fellow would stay on the phone long enough for a trace to go through, but he had to try.

"Yes, I quite agree," Race said. "Hadji's very upset that his father and brother have been taken."

"Dr. Quest and Jonny are settling in quite nicely here, Mr. Bannon, and they have spoken of how much they miss Hadji. It's wrong to keep them apart."

"So you're going to let Jonny and Benton go? That's great."

"No, Mr. Bannon. I'm encouraging you to accept the fact that you have lost Dr. Quest and his younger son, and take the steps necessary to reunite them with the elder son. After all, a boy should be with his father."

"True enough, and they all three should be in their home."

"Dr. Quest and Jonny are at home, Mr. Bannon." Race's eyes narrowed. Like hell they were. "They have a nice suite of rooms here."

"You know," Race said. "Talking to you this way is kind of awkward. You have the advantage on me. What's your name?" Race rounded the corner and opened the door of the phone tracing room. He gestured wildly at the phone and was rewarded by several of the whiz kids immediately setting to work at whatever it was they did.

"You may call me Arthur," the man said.

"Well, Arthur, I know Benton and I know Jonny, and I think you're full of shit."

"Such language, Mr. Bannon. Really, I'm quite surprised that Dr. Quest allows you to take care of his son."

"Well, now, I don't talk that way in front of him. I only use that kind of language when I'm talking to people who abduct families and hit children. Or other villains and evil minions."

"I would like to speak with Hadji Singh, if you please."

"Hadji isn't available right now, I'm afraid."

"You can't keep him mewed up in I-1 forever, Mr. Bannon. Surely you can see that it would be better for all concerned if he were to surrender voluntarily. Think of how many people might get hurt if we had to do it the hard way."

"I thought you people were supposed to specialize in painless extractions," Race said. "Guess you must be slipping a bit."

"Good bye, Mr. Bannon."

The phone cut off abruptly, and Race looked up at the wizards. "Sorry, Agent Bannon. We got a lot farther than the first time, but we couldn't track it back to its origin point."

"Damn!" Race said feelingly. "Something has got to give!"

"Something just did." Race whirled at the sound of Phil's voice from the doorway. The I-1 director looked grimly satisfied. "We do the extraction tonight."


	19. Separation Anxiety

Benton was relieved. Morgan had met them at the door that morning accompanied by Chris. He had escorted them to the lab, where a deeply cushioned armchair had been placed in a corner. After instructing Benton to get to work, Morgan had proceeded to settle Jonny in the chair and make sure he was comfortable.

"I'll be back to check on you two around lunchtime," Morgan had said before he left.

Benton had worked steadily all morning, making consistent progress. This miniaturization problem wasn't really complicated, it just required some effort. Jonny was reading one of the books that Morgan had left for him, something about the nature of the universe. He kept piping up with odd, obscure questions that Benton answered bemusedly.

For example, "Why does time go slower at the top of a water tower than at the bottom?" Jonny asked at one point.

Benton paused and looked up. "It's got to do with relative speed."

"How come?"

Pursing his lips, he said, "Well, it's like a wheel. The axle is moving slower than the rim."

"But why does time go slower when you're going faster?"

"Well, that's been hotly debated, and no one knows for sure."

"Oh. Are you going to find out?"

Benton was amused by his son's vote of confidence. "Maybe, maybe not. We'll see." Jonny had then returned to his reading.

Around 11:30, Benton was looking forward to the arrival of their lunch. His stomach was rumbling, and if he was hungry, the boy with the hollow leg undoubtedly was. Between his focus on his work and Jonny's focus on his reading, the room was very quiet, so when the door suddenly slammed open it was particularly loud in the silence.

Benton and Jonny both looked up and froze in postures of horror. Crandall stood there, Marcus behind him, Chris hovering in the background looking alarmed. For a moment no one moved, and it was like some kind of bizarre tableau. Then Crandall walked into the room. "Good morning, Dr. Quest," he said. "How are you doing today?" Marcus shut the door with Chris on the outside.

Benton's voice wouldn't work. He opened his mouth but no words would emerge. Crandall strode over to him, looking critically at the computer modeling Benton was doing. "Are you getting your work done? I suppose Morgan's been very soft with you."

"Good morning," Benton finally managed to say, though even to him his voice sounded strained. "I'm making fair progress, I'd say."

"I suppose," Crandall said slowly, walking around behind him, seeming to be looking at his notes. Suddenly, Benton found himself on his knees with Crandall's hand twisting his collar tightly around his neck. What was the man up to? Then his mouth went dry as he felt the cold circle of a gun barrel against his temple and heard a distinct click.

There was a loud scream from Jonny, who jumped up and ran over toward him. A series of four more clicks sounded as the man repeatedly squeezed the trigger, and Benton felt his stomach turn over. Jonny seemed to be moving in slow motion, and, though Benton wanted to wave him back, he couldn't bring himself to move. Crandall swung the hand holding the gun and knocked Jonny backwards onto the floor. Still holding Benton by the collar, Crandall said, "The board of directors may think that your father is vitally important, young Jonathon, but that doesn't mean that I do."

Jonny struggled up to a sitting position and stared at his father in shocked disbelief. He was gripping his left arm with his right hand, his bruised face contorted by pain and terror. The barrel returned to Benton's head and he gritted his teeth, certain that this time there would be a bullet. Jonny would be alone with this bastard, his callous thug and his father's cooling body. But there was a final click, then Crandall released Benton with a shove that sent him forward toward the floor. He caught himself and started to turn on Crandall, but he heard the cocking of a semi-automatic and turned his head to see Marcus pointing his gun at Jonny, who didn't even seem to have noticed him.

"Next time, Jonathon," Crandall said, "there will be a round in the chamber."

Jonny's eyes were wide and staring, and Benton wasn't even sure he'd heard. He scrambled over to him on his hands and knees, afraid to put his arms around his son for fear of hurting him further. What in the hell was going on here? If this was a good cop, bad cop ploy, it was purposeless. He was already working, had already given suggestions for the other projects. Crandall was out of control, and Benton had no way to stop him.

The door slammed open again, and Jonny started, letting out a whimper of pain. "Crandall, you braying jackass!" Morgan exclaimed. "What the devil do you think you're doing?" Morgan stood in the doorway with Chris behind him. He had a phone in one hand and he looked furious.

Jonny hitched himself over to his father and leaned against him, still clutching his arm, tears streaming down his face. Benton gingerly draped an arm around his son's shoulders, watching the face off. Marcus stood by the door, face impassive.

"Get out, Morgan!" Crandall commanded, his face contorted in a mask of rage. Benton prayed they'd not be left alone with him after this challenge to his authority. There would be no telling what he'd do. "The board cleared me and put me back in charge."

"Not anymore you're not," Morgan said with a tight, unfriendly smile. He held out the phone in his hand. "This is for you."

Looking deeply suspicious, Crandall took the phone and said, "Crandall here."

Benton could hear an angry voice on the other end, but he couldn't hear what was being said. Crandall's face first turned a beet red, then a pasty white. When he disconnected, Morgan took his arm and started to escort him from the room, but he flailed out and Morgan dodged the gun, staring at it in shock. "I think, Mr. Crandall, that all things considered it would be better if you left peaceably."

Crandall turned and threw the gun on the floor, where it slid to land near Jonny's feet. Despite his pain, despite his injuries, Jonny flinched back and tried to move away from the weapon. Benton kicked it out of sight under one of the laboratory tables.

Morgan led Crandall out where there were two men Benton had never seen waiting to take him away. Then Morgan turned to Marcus. "I believe that there is still an active order of suspension against you. Please return to your quarters."

For a moment, Marcus looked like he wanted to argue, but then he clicked his heels together and left. Chris came in and stood by the door.

Benton looked up at Morgan. "Well, what now?" he asked bitterly.

Morgan's face creased with sympathy, and he said, "Now we get your son some medical attention." Patricia showed up as he spoke, with a gurney and a kindly looking old man. "This is Dr. Jordan. He'll look after Jonny –"

As the old doctor started toward Jonny, however, he tried to slide away again. Dr. Jordan stopped immediately. Patricia stepped forward. "Jonny, can I help you up? We need to get a look at your arm, and we need to X-Ray your ribs."

Jonny looked up at her. His eyes were still streaming and he didn't say anything. Benton shook his head at Patricia and turned to pick his son up. Jonny made a quickly stifled sound of pain as Benton lifted him, and clung to him when he put him down on the gurney. "I won't leave you, Jonny," Benton said, stroking his hair. "I won't leave you." They made the short trip to the infirmary, and Benton continued to stroke Jonny's hair and to tell him that he wouldn't leave him. Patricia and Dr. Jordan conferred, and then Patricia came over to Jonny's side carrying a syringe.

Without stopping his reassurances, Benton lifted Jonny's sleeve so she had a clear shot to his upper arm. She smiled gratefully and wiped the antiseptic on Jonny's arm. He looked over at her, eyes wide, but this time, when he saw who it was, he seemed to calm a bit. She gave him the shot, then stroked his cheek. "We'll take good care of you, Jonny."

Benton watched Jonny's eyelids droop as the drug took effect, but he didn't stop stroking his hair even when it became obvious that Jonny was out. However, he suddenly became aware of the world around him. Morgan stood at the foot of the gurney, looking concernedly down at Jonny.

"You people are monsters," Benton said quietly, and Morgan flinched.

"What happened in there, Dr. Quest?"

"Take a guess," Benton snapped, not taking his eyes from Jonny's face.

"Please, tell me. I need to know."

"Crandall decided that he would frighten my son. So he put a revolver to my head and pulled the trigger. Six times."

Patricia let out a horrified sound, and Morgan just stared at him, round-eyed, shaking his head, seeming appalled. Benton didn't know whether he could believe him or not. They'd had no warning that Crandall was returning, none whatsoever.

Dr. Jordan walked over and gently checked Jonny's eyes. "Dr. Quest, I'm going to have to take his shirt off." His voice was a low, softly British rumble.

Benton nodded, and helped as much as he could.

"How did the two of you wind up on the floor?"

Benton sighed, and turned to face Morgan. "You have it on video tape, I would imagine. Why don't you just go and watch it?" Morgan didn't say anything, but he didn't leave either. Benton looked heavenward and went on. "When he ran towards me, Crandall hit him, knocked him to the floor, using the hand holding the gun."

"My God," Patricia breathed. "Poor Jonny."

"I would like to offer my most sincere –"

"I don't want an apology, Morgan!" Benton's voice was hard, but he didn't care. "I want to go home. My son has been in and out of trouble for most of his life, and he's been captured by villains repeatedly. You people are the only ones who ever truly terrified him, and the only ones who ever hurt him this badly. That makes you the worst of a bad lot."

"Crandall is an aberration. This is not how we operate."

"Oh, but it is!" Benton replied, shaking his head. "You just don't normally go this fast or this severe. But you do hurt children on purpose, and you have killed before."

"Dr. Quest –"

"Spare me your platitudes. My only concern right now is Jonny." He turned his back on Morgan and spoke to the doctor. "Is his arm broken?"

"I'm afraid so, Dr. Quest. We'll need x-rays."

Benton stayed with Jonny throughout the process, despite the fact that both Dr. Jordan and Morgan pointed out that Jonny wasn't really aware of him. "I said I would stay, and I'm going to," he said. "Unless you're going to do something drastic to make me change my mind."

Wisely, Morgan backed down at that point, and left the room.

Jonny had two cracked ribs, and a clean break of the humerus. Dr. Jordan set the arm and put a cast on it, then taped the ribs, and generally fussed in a surprisingly convincing manner. Benton watched him for a while, then asked, "How long has your family been with the corporation?"

Jordan looked up and said, "Since my children were three and five."

Benton blinked in surprise. "So you've been through this."

"I have four grandchildren." Nodding, Benton thought, _Translation: don't ask me to say anything bad about the corporation. I don't want my family hurt._

Benton was silent for a moment, looking down at his son. Very quietly, he said, "At this rate, I'll never have grandchildren."

Dr. Jordan raised an eyebrow. "This won't continue," he said in an equally quiet voice. "Morgan's not lying to you, this isn't normal. He's a good man. You can believe what he tells you."

"Trust is a lot to ask after this," Benton said, gesturing at Jonny.

"I can understand that," the doctor said. "How long did it take you to realize that Crandall was a bloody lunatic?"

"When he nearly caused Jonny to bleed to death on the first night, it was a good hint." Benton glowered at no one. "Then when Dr. Pascale died, that impression was strongly confirmed."

"I understood that to be an accident."

"A conveniently timed accident," Dr. Quest said. "She told me that she was going to have Crandall removed from this project, and the next day she was dead."

Dr. Jordan tilted his head. "Oddly, most of the relevant video footage from the other facility was damaged in transit."

"Probably the recording of today's incident was next for the chopping block," Benton said. He shuddered, remembering the certainty that he was about to die, leaving Jonny alone. "I am not a violent man, but –" He broke off, shaking his head.

By this point, they had shifted Jonny onto a normal hospital bed in a room with two beds. "You are, of course, welcome to stay the night here." Benton nodded, but didn't move toward the other bed. "I would, if it were me." He glanced up at the clock. "My wife will be expecting me for dinner, so I'd best be on my way. Your dinner should arrive shortly."

Benton nodded, just glad to finally be alone with Jonny. If Race didn't get here soon, Jonny would be a wreck when he finally did come. Patricia brought him his dinner on a tray, checked on Jonny, then left, not saying much, not really looking him in the eye.

Benton watched Jonny, then finally lay down himself and tried to sleep.

* * *

Phil, Race, and the Special Forces team were in the air, on their way to an island northeast of New Zealand, when Race's cell phone rang abruptly. Phil looked at him, and Race pulled the phone out and answered it. "Where are you people?" demanded a familiar voice.

"Patricia?" he asked.

"Have you moved my mother? She doesn't answer her phone."

"She has been moved. She's safe."

There was a pause, and then she said, "You have to find this place soon."

Race was alarmed by the slightly frantic tone of her voice. "What's happened? What's changed?"

"Crandall broke Jonny's arm today. He's very dopey, but Crandall scared him and Dr. Quest half to death. He needs to be someplace where he feels safe."

"I see. We're working on it, Patricia."

"Hurry. I have to go."

Race listened to the dead air at the other end of the phone line, then turned off the phone and stuck it in his pocket.

"What did she say?"

"Only that we have to get there soon and that Crandall broke Jonny's arm today." Phil's lips tightened. "Oh, and he's doped up, on pain meds, I'd guess."

"Did she say anything about Benton?"

"Yeah, that Crandall scared him and Jonny half to death." Before Phil could ask the next question, Race shook his head. "No, she didn't say how."

"It could all be a set up," Phil said.

"She put her mother into our hands," Race said. "With the mindset the corporation breeds, I don't think she'd have done that if she was lying."

"That's true, I suppose." All of the operatives along on this mission had seen video footage of Jonny and Dr. Quest. Recent footage, of them in Crandall's possession. It was amazing what a motivator seeing a grown man beat up on a little kid was to a group of soldiers. He heard Norton passing the update on Jonny's condition down the line of soldiers.

As they started to descend, Race hoped he was right about Patricia.

* * *

Benton woke up deep in the night to the dim lights that were left on in the infirmary. He looked to the bed next to him, and saw that it was empty, the covers thrown askew. Sitting up sharply, he looked around. Morgan came in a moment later, a guard close behind him. "Dr. Quest, you must come with me. I'm afraid we'll be leaving –"

"Where's Jonny?"

"Patricia and Chris have already taken him to the plane." Benton felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. Race must be close if they were being moved suddenly like this again. But Morgan was smart to separate him from Jonny. He couldn't leave without him, not especially with Jonny in this condition.

"You son of a bitch," Benton growled.

"Let's get moving."

Benton walked along with them, hoping against hope that Race was already on the ground, that he might already even have Jonny. The corridors were empty. "We've already evacuated most of the facility. Your Mr. Bannon is an amazing fellow to have sniffed us out twice."

"You'd be wise to leave us behind," Benton commented. "He'll just sniff you out again. He's a very determined man."

"The government will stop funding his search eventually."

Not that soon, Benton reflected. Too many of the nation's security systems owed a bit of their creation to him, and what he had created, he knew how to circumvent. He didn't voice this comment, however.

They came to the stairwell that led down to the same level as the hangar, and a familiar voice shouted from the bottom of the steps. "Hold it right where you are!"

"Phil!" Benton called, but the guard grabbed him by the arm and dragged him backwards, clapping a hand over his mouth.

"Back the other way," Morgan hissed, grabbing Benton's other arm.

They dragged him away despite his struggles. He could hear Corvin behind him. "Benton? Benton!" He heard the sound of multiple feet running up the stairs as they dragged him around the corner.

A shot rang out, and Benton heard Phil cry, "Be careful, you might hit Dr. Quest!"

At that moment, a desperate plan entered Benton's mind. He stopped struggling and simply went limp all at once. The sudden burden of all his weight dragged both men to a halt, and the guard let go of his mouth. "Phil, get Jonny!" he yelled. "He's not with me!"

* * *

Race made his way through the halls with three of Norton's top guys, keeping an eye and ear out for either Jonny or Benton. His cell phone vibrated suddenly, and he reached into his pocket and turned it on. "Bannon," he said very quietly.

"Please help us!" Patricia hissed into his ear. "I know you're on the island. I've gotten us hidden away, but Chris got shot, and Jonny's unconscious, and Marcus has us pinned down." As if to corroborate her statement, he heard the sound of gunshots in the background. "I can't carry either of them any distance alone. I need your help."

"Where are you?"

She made an exasperated sound. "Where are you?"

He looked around. "I'm on the second floor and there's a sign on the wall that says 'To West Living Quarters.'"

"Bannon, what are you doing?" demanded one of the soldiers.

"Talking to the woman who's with Jonny," he hissed back. "Where are you, Patricia?"

"That's a t-intersection. Go straight, away from the living quarters. You'll pass two intersections, then take the first right."

"Okay, got it. Go on."

"Let me think. Um. . . the second left. . . and then you go straight for a really long time, till you reach a sign that says furnace room. Go that direction. You'll hear the shooting before you reach us, because Marcus is between you and where I am."

"I see. We'll be there as quick as we can." He shut the phone and tucked it away again. "This way."

"What if it's a trap, sir?" one of the soldiers asked.

"Then we're in trouble," Race said. "But there's a twelve-year-old kid counting on us."

They ran through the halls, following the directions Patricia had given them, and Race started hearing gunfire. _Hang on kid_ , he thought. _Just a few minutes more_.

* * *

Morgan and the guard had managed to drag Benton back to his feet and got him around the next corner before Phil's people made it. Benton, however, wasn't giving up. They would find Jonny, he was sure of it. He stomped hard on Morgan's instep and thrust his elbow into the guard's side. Morgan let out a cry of pain, but kept dragging him onward.

Frustrated, Benton threw himself at the guard, reasoning that a rifle would be difficult to unsling and fire at close range while grappling with someone. His weight dragged his arm out of Morgan's grasp and he went down to the ground on top of the guard, punching and kicking.

Morgan bent over him, trying to drag him off and make him go onward, but Benton heard the sharp report of a rifle, and moisture hit his back and the back of his head. Morgan's hands fell away, and he landed with a thud next to them. Running footsteps approached, and Benton was able to pull away from the guard as soldiers took him into custody.

He looked down at Morgan, whose head was a bloody mess, and wished it was Crandall lying there. It seemed unfair that the halfway decent guy had died while the bastard had gotten away. Phil ran up and grabbed his shoulders.

"Are you okay, Benton?" he asked.

"I'm fine, but I don't know where Jonny is." He gestured at the dead man and said, "Morgan told me they'd taken him to the plane. The hangar's this way."

"We've already been there," Phil said, forestalling him as he started to move off. "There are two planes down there, but only one pilot. Another plane took off about ten minutes before we arrived."

Benton fell to his knees. Could he be gone already? There had been plenty of time for Jonny to have been on that plane. Had they taken his son away? Phil bent down and dragged him back to his feet. "You two, get Dr. Quest to safety."

"No!" Benton cried. "I have to find Jonny!"

"Race is on it, Benton," Phil said. "And I'll take the rest of these guys to –"

"Sir, we have a report that the child is still on the island," said one of the soldiers. Benton turned eagerly to him. "Our forces are on their way to pick him up."

"There, Benton. Now go with them. We don't want to risk you getting captured again or killed." Benton didn't want to leave, but Phil made sense. And if Race was on Jonny's trail . . . Race had never let them down before.

* * *

The gunfire had stopped shortly before they reached Patricia, and Race had dire concerns. He saw a jammed weapon that had clearly been thrown aside and heard voices ahead.

"What's going on here?" a man demanded.

"It doesn't matter, just get the boy!"

Race ran forward, launching himself through the next doorway. Patricia was struggling with an ox of a man, one of the ones who had tormented Jonny. As he paused, he saw her stab a syringe into the side of his neck, shooting its contents home.

A door slammed to his left, and with a silent apology to Penelope, he ran past her daughter and after Jonny. He could hear the three soldiers behind him, but he didn't stop to see if they were keeping up or what. He just pelted off in the direction he'd heard the villains flee in.

He flung a door open and saw them across the room, maybe twenty feet away. One of them held Jonny in his arms and the other was feverishly trying to open a door that had a number pad lock. Race skidded to a stop and brought his gun to bear. "Stop what you're doing and move away from the door."

They looked up, and the one who was working at the keypad said, "Use the kid as a shield, he won't want to risk shooting him."

Race shot the one who wasn't holding Jonny, hitting him in the shoulder, and he lurched sideways, then fell to the ground. He felt two men run up behind him, and spared a glance back to make sure they were friendly. "All right, you have a choice. You can give me the kid and give up quietly, or I can shoot you in the head and risk that you drop him."

The man's eyes widened and he said, "All right. Just don't shoot me." Race holstered his gun and walked forward to take Jonny from the man, who was, with his compatriot, quickly taken into custody. Patricia ran in a second later and said, "Oh, thank God!"

"Could you do me a favor, Patty?" he said.

She gave him an odd look and said, "What?"

"Pull the radio out of the pouch on my hip." She did. "Now, hold it up and press down that red button." She followed his instructions and he spoke. "Bannon here, Corvin do you read?"

"Corvin here."

"I've got Jonny and we've captured two hostiles."

"Good. Meet us at the rendezvous point. Benton should already be there."

Race breathed a sigh of relief. "Roger." It had been a nightmarish thought, that they might retrieve one of them without the other.

The soldiers had already radioed for back up which was arriving as he finished talking to Phil. A man with a red cross on his arm ran up and said, "Here, let me get a look at him, sir."

"We need to get to the rendezvous point," Race said.

"Do you want to risk that he might be bleeding internally?"

"He's not," Patricia said quickly. "Unless those two did something incredibly stupid and vicious in the last three minutes, he's not."

"Who are you?"

"I'm the medical assistant."

"And she's the reason we've got Jonny right now, so I think we can trust her. Let's move out."

They ran into no more resistance on their way out of the building, but they did join up with another squad that had prisoners, and one carrying a young fellow who'd been patched up a bit. Race dimly recalled seeing him on the floor near where Patricia had been fighting.

Race kept glancing down at his young charge who lay so still in his arms. His face was a brilliant yellow and green, but his lip was healing and the swelling had gone down since the images he'd seen on the video tape. However, he had a fresh-looking cast on his left arm, and his face was pale under the discoloration from the bruises.

When they arrived at their plane, Race went immediately inside, his eyes searching for Benton, who leapt to his feet when he saw Jonny. Before he could run to him, Race said, "Sit down. I'll be there in a second."

Benton subsided into his seat. "Race, you are a sight for sore eyes."

Race lay Jonny down on the stretcher that was set up next to Benton's seat, and strapped him in. Patricia checked him quickly, then sat down on the other end of the stretcher. Phil's team hadn't come in yet, so they didn't take off right away.

Benton performed his own check on his son, then turned to Patricia. "How did you get away from Chris?"

"I didn't have to," she said. "He wanted Jonny out of here as much as I did. There just wasn't anything he could say or do to help."

"Oh." Benton looked down at Jonny again, and Race could see that there wouldn't be much sense gotten out of him for a while. "Race," Benton said finally. "How is Hadji?"

"Hell, I almost forgot. Benton, here's my cell phone. He's waiting for me to call him."

"Wait until we're in the air," Corvin said, running in. "Good work everybody." The door was sealed and he sat down and strapped himself in. "Let's go."

A few minutes after take off, Corvin nodded across the aisleway to Benton. "Give Hadji a call. It'll be noisy, but he'll know what's up at least."

Race listened with pleasure as Benton attempted to convey the events to Hadji at the top of his lungs. Hadji seemed to get the gist, however, because after a moment, Benton closed the phone and handed it back. "Where are we going?" he asked Race.

"Washington," Race said. "Hadji, Jessie and Estella are all at I-1 Headquarters there."

Benton nodded. As he started drowsing, Race persuaded him to swap places with him so that Jonny would have a conscious friendly face nearby if he woke up. Once Benton was asleep, Race covered him up with one of the standard issue dark green scratchy blankets and put a gentle hand on Jonny's head.

They were headed home, and they had both of them. Race sat back. There were two young people at home that he could face now without flinching.

Jonny looked terrible. Race hoped he didn't feel as bad as he looked.

* * *

The world was all noise and movement when Jonny started to wake up. His eyes flipped open and he saw the metal interior of an airplane. "Dad?" he said, trying to sit up. He came up sharply against some kind of restraint. Pain shot through his ribs as he hit the strap, and he felt panic start to take over.

"Dad?" he shrieked, struggling against the bonds. One of his arms was stiff and unresponsive, but he brought his other hand up to the straps, trying to remove them. A large hand came down on top of his, preventing him, and he grabbed the man's wrist and tried to bite it.

"Jonny?" The voice was very loud but extremely familiar. Jonny craned his neck and saw the white-haired man he'd been wishing to see for days. Was it a dream? "Jonny, don't," Race said reassuringly. "You're okay."

"Race?" Jonny couldn't hear his own voice over the sound of the plane's engines, but Race understood him and nodded. "Where's Dad?"

Race pointed to the other side of him, but Jonny couldn't see. A moment later, Race unstrapped from his seat and stood up and Jonny could see his father belted into a seat, sleeping. Beyond him, he could see a bunch of men in green clothes. He looked around the plane at what he could see. They were surrounded by soldiers, and when he looked back up at Race, he saw that Phil Corvin had come to join him.

Race knelt beside the stretcher he was strapped down on and gave him a big, if very ginger, hug. Jonny started to sniffle, and tried to stifle the reaction. He didn't want to seem like a baby, but he was so glad to see Race – and even Phil – that he couldn't help it. When Race pulled back, though, Jonny was surprised to see that tears were running down his face, too. He'd never seen Race cry before, and it worried him.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Race bent and kissed him on the forehead.

"I'm fine, kid, now that you're out of that place!" he said. Jonny had to agree.

"Is Dad okay? He didn't get hurt, did he?"

"No, your dad is fine, Jonny," Race said. "He's just sleeping."

"How is Hadji? Is he still at camp?"

"No," Race said, and Jonny felt the stirrings of panic. Had the corporation . . . but Race kept speaking. "He, Jessie and Estella are all at I-1 Headquarters." Jonny heaved a sigh of relief. "How do you feel?"

"Great!" Jonny said firmly, ignoring the pain in his arm and his ribs.

Race gave him an exasperated look. "You see, Phil, he's just like his father. It's impossible to take care of these two."

Jonny knit his eyebrows together and looked up at him. He liked hearing Race say he was like his father, but why did he seem to think it was a bad thing? "What's wrong?" he asked. "I'm sorry we got caught."

Race squeezed his free hand and said, "It's not your fault, Jonny."

"Did we cause a lot of trouble?" He looked around the plane. "I mean, you never brought the Air Force before."

Race grinned at him. "No. The corporation caused a lot of trouble, and we caused it right back."

"Good." Jonny fell back on the stretcher. Keeping his head up was a lot of effort.

"Are you in any pain, Jonny?" Race asked.

Jonny shrugged. "Not too bad," he lied, but he didn't want them to give him any more stuff for pain. He didn't want to get knocked out by drugs again. He'd missed the whole rescue! "I missed the rescue. What happened?"

"Nothing too exciting, Jonny," Race said. "I don't have the whole story yet. Your dad fell asleep, and –"

"Weren't you there when you saved Dad?" Jonny asked, interrupting.

"No, I was on the team that found you." Jonny lay back, considering the implications of this. They'd been separated? That was really alarming. "I think you'd better try to rest, Jonny," Race said. "This yelling is kind of exhausting."

Jonny gave a weak answering grin. Then he said, "You won't leave, will you?"

"No, Jonny, I'll be right beside you when you wake up." Race got up and sat back down in his seat.

"Why doesn't my arm work?" Jonny asked suddenly.

"It's broken," Race said. "You didn't know?"

Jonny shook his head. He heard a soldier with a red cross on his arm walk up beside him. "Let me take a look, Jonny," he said. "How long ago was he last medicated?" he asked someone that was on the other side of Jonny.

"About three hours," Patricia said, and Jonny craned his neck to see her. She smiled at him. Jonny was mildly stunned by her presence as they discussed his treatment.

"All right, young man, I'm going to give you a shot. We don't want you to be in pain." Jonny sighed and nodded. He looked back at Race who was smiling at him, and hoped he wouldn't wake up to find that this had been a dream.


	20. Pep Talks and Problems

Benton sat in an armchair next to Jonny's hospital bed. They'd made a quick high security trip to the hospital to get them both checked out, and then had been moved to one of the security apartments I-1 maintained on the base for witnesses, informants and the like. Not surprisingly, a number of these apartments came fitted out with hospital beds and other medical accouterments. Fortunately, his son only needed the bed.

Jonny had not yet awakened, but that wasn't surprising given the level of medication he'd been on for travel. Benton gazed at his younger son's sleeping face. Race was right, Jonny would undoubtedly recover in time, but how much time? There was no sure way to guess.

Hadji sat with him in the chair, slumped against his side, sleeping. He had hovered over them during their medical examinations, learning a great deal more about the hows and whys of Jonny's injuries than Benton would have preferred. Not that he would have kept the information from him, there just were better ways to break that kind of news.

The worry and alarm on Hadji's face had grown with the description of each new event, and Benton had finally made him sit down with him, keeping his arm around the boy's shoulders. Otherwise, he kept pacing around the room, fit to be tied. It wasn't often that Benton saw Hadji discomposed, but the brutality Crandall had visited on his brother had undone him completely. His adrenalin had crashed shortly after they'd been brought to this room, and he'd fallen asleep on his father.

Another armchair had been dragged into the bedroom, to the other side of the bed, and Race slumped there, also fast asleep. Both Benton and Estella had tried to persuade him to go to bed, but he said he had promised to be there when Jonny woke up, and he was determined to do it.

Benton was grateful. Race's presence, even asleep, would do much to comfort Jonny if he awoke suddenly. He'd been a fixture in the their lives since shortly after Jonny's mother died, and his presence then had done much to hold both Quest men together. Jonny and he were especially close.

Unfortunately, the medical exams and the pursuant questions and paperwork, as well as the need to be a calm, stabilizing influence on Hadji, had woken Benton up, so here he sat, wide-eyed and watchful. And thankful that his family was reunited. And doubly thankful that the reunion wasn't taking place within the corporation.

Estella walked in carrying a mug of hot chocolate. Jessie walked close beside her mother, wary of treading on masculine privacy, but clearly worried about Jonny.

"I thought you might like something to drink, Dr. Quest," Estella said quietly.

"Please, call me Benton," he said. "I'm terribly sorry to have dragged you and your daughter into this mess."

"Don't worry about it, Benton," she said. "Adventure is good for the spirit, and, with Race's job, if it wasn't you, it would be somebody else." She smiled at him. "At least you're educational."

"Mother!" Jessie hissed, turning a brilliant red that clashed spectacularly with her hair.

The two adults exchanged glances of parental amusement. Ignoring them ostentatiously, Jessie picked up a blanket from the chest at the foot of the bed and went to cover her father.

Estella's face became serious, watching her. She turned back to him and said, "Actually, I was also wondering if I could have a word with you, outside the range of the children?"

"We're young adults," came Jessie's soft voice from across the room. "Ask any librarian."

Estella raised her eyebrows. "Out of hearing, at least," she said with a little smile.

Benton wondered what she wanted to talk about. Jessie had walked back over to them, and she said, "I can keep an eye on them, Dr. Quest," she said. "If Jonny wakes up, I'll come get you right away." He sighed, then shifted gently out from under Hadji, leaving him asleep in the chair. Following Estella out into the living room, he shut the door behind them.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asked, suspecting that he already knew. What mother would want her child associating with people who had such things happen to them? Jonny and Hadji, not to mention Race, would miss her. Would Race leave them?

"When was the last time you ate?" she asked.

Benton blinked in surprise. "I'm not sure, to be honest."

"I know they got something into Jonny at the hospital, but everyone seemed more interested in asking you questions than in feeding you." She beckoned him into the small kitchen where he found a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of soup. "Sit down and eat something, Benton, before you fall over."

He sat down gratefully, discovering that he was, indeed, starving. "Thank you, Doctor –"

"Estella, please. After all, we're family now."

This caught him while he was chewing, and he gulped. "What?" he asked.

"Sorry, Benton, just a bad joke." He knit his eyebrows and kept eating. "When Race went to investigate that first island, he realized that if he died, there was no clear guardian for Hadji."

Benton paused in his meal. "I'd never thought of that."

"Well, he made Phil get him a piece of paper and he wrote out a document making me the tertiary guardian for both boys." She shrugged. "So, we're almost family."

Benton considered this notion and found it appealing, insofar as anything that involved both he and Race being dead could be. "If really you don't mind, I'm glad he did," he said finally. "It's an elegant solution that I would never have suggested."

"Elegant?" she said, a twinkle in her eye. "I'll take that as a compliment. However, it set me to thinking. Were something to happen to both Race and I, Jessie would, as things stand, go either to my parents or to Race's uncle. Neither of us has ever wanted her to go to that old wretch, and my parents are getting on in years." Benton raised his eyebrows, wondering if this was going where he thought it was going. "My father isn't well, and Mother has her hands full with him." She pursed her lips. "I'd have to discuss it with Race, of course, but I can't see him objecting. Would you consider being Jessie's guardian if that catastrophe should arise?"

"That would be a catastrophe, indeed," Benton said, hardly liking to think what life would be like without Race. "But of course I would." His eyes fell to his plate. "Though if you knew all of what happened in the last few days, I'm not sure you'd be so eager."

This seemed to be the night for Estella to surprise him. "If you're referring to the fact that both you and Jonny spoke about Jessie and I to that bastard, Crandall, I can understand why."

"You can?" Benton asked, eyes widening.

Her expression grew very serious. "All I have to do is put Jessie and I in your place, and it's all too easy."

He nodded. "I am sorry, nevertheless." Then he thought for a moment and looked up. "How do you know about that?"

She sat down at the table across from him. "I don't know if you realize this, but video recordings were left behind at the first island."

Benton stopped eating altogether and stared at her. "Did you see them?"

"No, but Race did. I only know they left him very shaken, and that things got ugly when Crandall started asking questions about us."

 _Race saw them,_ Benton thought. _What did he see? What recordings were left behind, and how?_ Estella pointed at his plate, and he started eating again.

"Are you okay, Benton?" she asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"I just – I can't adjust to the thought." Benton shook his head. "I don't like thinking about Race having to watch anything that happened there. It was bad enough while it was going on."

* * *

When Jonny woke up, he saw Jessie on the end of his bed, sitting cross-legged and reading a book. The room was unfamiliar, but as he glanced around he saw Hadji asleep in a chair on one side of the bed and Race likewise on the other. His father wasn't in the room.

Jessie looked up, startled, then grinned. "The sleeping prince awakes!"

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Washington, D.C., I-1 Headquarters." She slipped off the bed. "I've got to get your dad."

He watched her go, then jumped at a sudden movement beside him. He felt pretty foolish when he turned his head and saw that it was just Race sitting up to stretch. "Easy, champ," Race said, smiling. "How're you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," Jonny said. His arm wasn't hurting, though there was an odd ticklish sensation near his elbow that he couldn't reach . . . He tried not to think about that. His ribs were okay, and the gash on his thigh had started to itch the way that meant it was healing.

Race had gotten up as he'd evaluated his condition, and now he stood over Jonny, looking down with a broad grin. "It's good to have you back, kiddo," he said.

"It's good to be back," Jonny said, grinning back up at him. His grin faded, though, as the thought that Race would be angry with him struck him. He wrinkled his eyebrows, trying to remember why he was so sure that Race would be mad at him.

Race evidently noticed his change of expression, because he sat down on the edge of the bed and said, "What's the matter, Jonny?" Before Jonny could answer, his father came in.

"I'm glad to see you awake," he said, coming over to the other side of the bed and putting his hand on Jonny's head. "How are you feeling?"

Jonny shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

Race snorted, and said, "That's all I got out of him, too."

Estella had come in behind his dad, and he managed to smile at her. "Hello, Jonny, it's good to see you," she said. The memory of just why Race would be angry, just what he had done, what he had said about Jessie and Race, came crashing down on him suddenly. Much to his dismay and embarrassment, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. Jessie had come back, too, and he didn't want her to see him cry. He turned his face away.

"I think we'd better give the guys some time alone," Estella said.

"But, Mom," Jessie said as she was steered out. "Is he cry–?" The end of that question was mercifully cut off when the door shut.

"Jonny, what's wrong?" Race asked again, and his father sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning over him.

"Jonny?" he asked. "Are you hurting?" Jonny shook his head and tried to stop the tears that were running down his cheeks.

"What is going on?" asked Hadji in a sleepy voice, and Jonny wanted the bed to swallow him whole. He felt like a great big wuss, as pathetic as Crandall had said he was.

Silent communication seemed to pass between his father and Race, then his father put am arm around Hadji's shoulders and guided him out of the room. Jonny kept trying to stifle the crying, but the effort was making his ribs hurt.

Race gazed down at him sympathetically. "All right, Jonny, out with it. What's on your mind?" Jonny's head was still turned away, and he reached out a hand towards Jonny's chin. Without thinking about it, Jonny flinched away. When he saw the surprise and alarm on Race's face, the tears broke through and he started sobbing. That hurt his ribs, too. He brought his good hand up to his face and tried to cover his eyes. He was acting like such a baby!

Race gently shifted him so that Jonny was leaning against his chest and said, "It's okay, Jonny. Everything's going to be okay."

"No, it's not!" Jonny managed to say.

Race let him cry for a couple minutes, then spoke in a very gentle tone. "Is this about the stuff you told Crandall about Jessie and me?" Jonny choked and looked back at Race over his shoulder in surprise. "Yes, I know about that. Dr. Pascale made a VCD to use against Crandall."

Race paused, and Jonny said, "She's dead."

"Yes, she is," Race said. "That's why we have the VCD." Jonny took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get himself under control. "So I saw what happened, and I agree with your dad. There wasn't anything else you could do."

"But Jessie – I –"

"You didn't tell him anything they couldn't have found out from school records, Jonny. You did just what you should have." Jonny tried to digest this, but it felt wrong. You didn't tell bad guys about your friends, no matter what. "What matters to me is that you stayed alive long enough for us to bring you back."

* * *

Jonny was quiet for a while after Race had his say, and Race wasn't sure what he was thinking. Poor kid, he'd been through so much over the last week and a half. And Lord knew what had happened since they'd changed locations. Corvin's men were still combing that facility for evidence, and he didn't doubt there would be some.

"I'm sorry I'm being so pathetic," Jonny said finally. Race raised his eyebrows. Where was that coming from?

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I keep crying and stuff," Jonny explained. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I never used to do this."

"Nothing's wrong with you, Jonny. Your reaction is perfectly normal." Jonny's silence spoke for volumes of disbelief, and Race persevered. "You've never been in a situation like that before, and Crandall was scary."

Jonny shuddered. "Yeah," he said with feeling. "You don't know the half of it."

Race kept himself from tensing, knowing that would alarm Jonny, and kept his voice neutral even though he wanted to scream and shout. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"He was nuts," Jonny said. "It didn't matter what Dad or I did, it was wrong. If Dad had handed him all the projects, done, on a silver platter, he would have complained that the platter wasn't shiny enough."

"You're probably right."

"And – and he had a gun, the last time we saw him." Jonny's voice was hushed, and he seemed very distressed, Race was quiet. There had to be more, Jonny'd seen guns before, he'd face them without flinching. "He held it to Dad's head, and he pulled the trigger."

"He did what?" Race asked, appalled.

Jonny was on a roll. Race doubted he could stop now that the words were coming out. "The gun was empty, but I couldn't tell that. Neither could Dad. He just kept pulling the trigger. He hit me with the gun when I tried to make him stop, that's how my arm got broken, I think." He took a deep breath, but before Race could say anything, he went on. "And it's my fault! If he'd killed Dad, it would have been my fault!"

"Whoa, there, Jonny. How do you mean, it's your fault?"

"I – I threw him," Jonny said. "I got scared, and I panicked, and I threw him into a table. He was really angry, but he didn't do anything right then because he had to leave, had to catch a plane."

"I see."

"We thought he was gone," Jonny said. "When he came back, he had the gun, and he – so you see, it was my fault. He was angry with me for throwing him, and he said that the next time there would be a bullet." Race felt his stomach clench. It was no wonder Jonny was so upset.

"It wasn't your fault, Jonny."

"It was! It was!"

"No, it wasn't. It couldn't be your fault. You weren't in control of the situation." Jonny shook his head miserably, clearly not believing him. "Do you know why he had to leave?"

"He said something about having to clear himself when he was arguing with Mr. Morgan. Something about the board."

"Has it occurred to you that he might have been angry about something that happened while he was gone?" Jonny shook his head, seeming startled by this new perspective. "It wasn't your fault, nothing that happened there was your fault. You couldn't have stopped him. The man is sick. From what I've seen, he has a need to be violent. You had it right before, nothing you could have done would have pleased him. If you hadn't thrown him, he would have picked something else to be furious at." He ruffled Jonny's hair. "The way your hair grows, or the angle of your nose. He's just the kind of man who will find any excuse to hit people."

Jonny didn't say anything for a minute, but then he said, "Maybe."

"There's no maybe about it," Race said firmly. "A grown up who hits kids like that has something badly wrong with them." Pursing his lips, Race considered some of the events of his own past. "Jonny, you know that when my parents died, I went to live with my father's brother, my Uncle Ezrah?"

"Yeah," Jonny said. "We went to see him once, the sea serpent that turned out to be plesiosaur. You almost got killed in that fire."

"Right," Race said, remembering that visit. Much had happened, both good and bad. Mostly good, on close consideration.

"You've never talked about him much," Jonny said. "I remember you said something about there being things you couldn't and maybe shouldn't forgive."

"You've got quite a memory, Jonny," Race said. "You're right, though, I don't talk about him much. Probably because I don't like to think about him much."

"Because he beat you and the other kids?" Jonny asked quietly.

Race sighed. "That, and because he wasn't a nice man. He'd say things that flayed you to the bone, and then tell you it was for your own good. Words can be just as hurtful as blows, Jonny. And the bruises from them can last longer, because the healing is different." Jonny nodded, but he didn't say anything. "I get the feeling, from things I saw and things you've said, that not all of what Crandall did was physical. That he said some things that got under your skin."

Jonny shrugged, which was as good as admitting it. "Well, don't let it bug you," Race said. "He was a bastard and a liar, and nothing he said about you was true. Take it from me. I know you a hell of a lot better than he did, and you're tops in my book."

"Thanks, Race." They sat together for a few minutes without talking, then there was a loud gurgle from Jonny's stomach, echoed almost immediately by Race's stomach. They both laughed, and Race helped Jonny out of bed.

"I think it's time that we got ourselves some food, kiddo. What do you say to grilled cheese sandwiches?"

"Sounds great!"

* * *

One pep talk was not going to alleviate Jonny's distress long term, Race thought as he watched the kids play Chinese checkers with Bandit flopped on his back beside Jonny, sound asleep. But it seemed, for now, to have made him a little calmer, though he was still very jumpy.

Estella was on the phone with the foreman of her dig. She'd undoubtedly need to leave soon, and he wondered if Jessie would go with her. He wondered if she was going to object to Jessie's continuing to live at the Quest compound after this interlude. He could hardly blame her if she did.

Benton sat on the sofa, also watching the kids with a bland look on his face that told Race clearly that he was trying to hide his emotions. He walked over and sat down next to him, but Benton didn't take his eyes away from Jonny and Hadji. Currently, Jessie was ribbing them both because she was beating them soundly. Race glanced at his friend's face and sighed. They hadn't yet had a chance to talk about Jonny's reaction earlier.

After a moment, Benton turned to him and said, "So, what was bothering Jonny?" He kept his voice low and calm, but his eyes were intense on Race's.

"He was worried that I'd be angry with him over what he told Crandall."

Benton was silent for a moment, then lifted an eyebrow. "And are you?" he asked hesitantly.

Race was flabbergasted. Surely Benton knew him better than that. "Of course not, Benton," he replied, keeping his voice as low as he could so as not to attract attention from the kids. Jonny glanced up, eyes a little wide, but when Race gave him a smile, he went back to the game. "Not at him or at you. You did what you had to, to stay alive and keep Jonny alive."

"I thought you'd feel that way, but you wonder sometimes." Benton looked away. "Occasionally people react to things in ways even they wouldn't have expected."

"Well, not me and not this." Benton didn't say anything, and he didn't look back at him. Race tilted his head. "Do you feel guilty?" he asked.

Benton nodded, and looked down at his hands, which he held clasped in his lap. "A bit," he said so quietly that Race had to strain to hear him. "But I'd do it again in a hearbeat if Jonny was in danger."

"Good," Race said firmly. Benton looked up and gave him the ghost of a smile. "So, how are you holding up?"

Benton leaned forward, an expression of calm confidence on his face, and rested his palms on his knees. "I'm fine, Race," he said in a nonchalant tone. "You know me."

Race nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know you all right." His tone made Benton turn to glare at him, lips pursed. "You'd sooner chop off your right hand than admit to weakness."

"That's not true," Benton objected, though Race noted that his hands had curled into fists. "There's just no point in discussing things we can't change."

Sighing, Race shrugged, giving up on getting Benton to open up for now. "Jonny said Crandall played a sort of Russian roulette with you."

Benton stiffened and closed his eyes. "Yes. Yes, he did."

"Jonny thinks it's his fault." Benton's eyes flipped open and he stared at him aghast.

"I may have got him temporarily convinced that he isn't to blame for anything that happened, but with Jonny you never know."

"Right," Benton said thoughtfully.

"And I started to lift his chin, to get him to look at me, gently, you know, but the minute my hand moved toward him, he flinched." Benton's eyes went to Jonny's face, and Race followed his gaze. The larger bruises were a fading yellow now, giving his face a sort of sallow complexion, though around his eye there were still hints of purple, and there were newer bruises around his chin. Race wondered how those had come about, and if they had anything to do with Jonny's reaction to him earlier.

"The scars from this 'adventure' will run pretty deep, I'm afraid," Benton said quietly. "I wasn't even there for most of what happened to him at the second facility."

"What did happen?" Race asked.

"What, aren't you going to watch the security tapes again?" Benton asked, and Race was surprised by the slight resentment he detected in his friend's voice.

"Benton, I had to, we had to know –"

"I know, I know." Benton shook his head and leaned back into the sofa. "I just – I'd rather you hadn't seen it, I guess."

"Why?"

Benton cocked a wry and weary grin up at him. "Maybe – I don't know. It's harder to downplay events that somebody else witnessed." Race nodded, enlightened. "But you had to look, you had to know. And for Jonny's sake, it's better that you did. I'm not sure I can talk to him about what happened. He'd probably just shut down." He shook his head. "He didn't even tell me when that brute broke his ribs. Said it was no big deal."

"Crandall again?"

"Oh, no," Benton said. "Crandall wasn't even at the facility yet from what I was told. It was Marcus. He tried to kick Bandit, and Jonny intervened, so Marcus shoved him into a stair railing."

"My God."

"And everyone, excluding Marcus, Chris and Crandall, kept telling us that this wasn't how things were done, and that Crandall was behaving oddly." There was suppressed rage in Benton's eyes as he went on. "All I could think was how little difference that made to Jonny and me. Crandall was who was there." Race sat in silence, not sure what to say. "I was so helpless. It seemed that anything I said to the man was wrong, and if Jonny spoke out of turn, he went ballistic." Benton shook his head. "I've never seen Jonny so frightened in my life."

"Well, after that first incident, I can see why," Race commented, shivering as he recalled the look on Crandall's face.

Benton stiffened again. "The first incident?" he asked. "Which first incident?"

Race looked over at him. "When the bastard nearly killed him, digging his hand into Jonny's injury."

"You saw that?" Benton asked. "Wait. They said all the footage from the first facility was damaged in transit. Was some of it left behind?"

"Not exactly," Race said. "You know that he killed Dr. Pascale, right?"

"I suspected as much. Why?"

"He left her behind. It looked like he shoved her down the stairs and left her for dead."

Benton's attention sharpened. "She wasn't dead?"

"Not when he left, though she was by the time we found her. But he didn't bother to search her body, and she'd put together a presentation for the Board on his actions. What we have is a collection of exerpts chosen specifically to highlight Crandall's cruelty and your attempts to cooperate."

Benton was shaking his head. "So she was on our side, in a manner of speaking." He looked down at his hands again, and then back to Race. "What exactly happened, Race? If you saw what happened, you know I wasn't there, and I never asked Jonny."

Race looked over at the boy, who was telling a wide-eyed Jessie and Hadji some kind of story. He wondered how much Jonny would tell them about the last week and a half. "He – Jonny made a crack about his 'menacing act' and that sent Crandall through the roof. He grabbed Jonny's leg and –" Race broke off, shaking his head. "That was disturbing enough, but the expression on his face . . . . He waited to start hurting him until Jonny made eye contact with him, and he actively enjoyed the pain and terror he was causing."

Benton's face had paled. "You're saying that he made sure Jonny knew he was having fun? I knew he was a sadist, but – no wonder Jonny was so afraid of him." He looked back towards his sons. "I wish he'd been killed rather than Morgan."

Race had never heard Benton actively wish for the death of another being. Crandall had a great deal to answer for. He could only hope the corporation would 'fire' him, but they likely would never know whether that happened or not.


	21. Family

Jonny finished telling Hadji and Jessie about the abduction and they gazed at him, round-eyed for a moment. "So they really stitched you up on the kitchen table?" Jessie asked quietly.

"Yeah," Jonny said.

"What happened next?" she asked.

Jonny shrugged. "I don't know. They gave me morphine, so I was out of it. I don't even know how we left the compound."

"There was a boat," Hadji said. "Race and Mr. Corvin tracked it down to Nova Scotia."

"Wow." Jonny wondered how long that had taken.

"But the reason it was so hard to find you was that the boat took you to a plane out in the middle of the ocean," Hadji explained. "They tracked the plane through satellite photos."

"Yeah, that took forever," Jessie said. "And they wouldn't let us do anything but look through government records trying to find traces of the corporation."

"Well, I thought you were in Argentina, anyway," Jonny said. "When did you come back?"

"Dad called and told Mom that you and your dad had been kidnapped, and I wanted to come back right away and help find you."

"She bought an airplane ticket online and stole a canoe," Hadji said in an undertone.

"I got caught stealing the canoe," Jessie admitted. "But Mom decided that we should fly back to the States. I think there might have been people watching us."

Jonny got a tight feeling in his throat. "When was that?"

"Right after I got there, really," Jessie said. "I think they must have already been in the country, because we came back the day after I arrived."

If they'd already been watching Jessie and her mother, maybe what Jonny had said really hadn't made that much of a difference. Even so, Jonny thought, he hadn't known that when he answered Crandall's questions.

"Jonny?" Hadji said. He looked at his brother, raising an eyebrow. "What did they ask Dr. Quest to do that he wouldn't cooperate?"

Jonny's stomach clenched. "Dad did cooperate," he said, looking down at the game board, not meeting their eyes. "The guy they had in charge of us was sick."

"What do you mean?" Hadji asked.

Jonny shrugged again, not looking up. "Dad did everything he said. Sometimes he didn't answer questions as fast as the guy wanted, but he always answered them."

"Why did he hit you then?" Jessie asked.

"Because he liked it, I guess," Jonny said. He force his face and his voice to brightness. "So, what did you guys find out?"

"Jonny!" Jessie exclaimed quietly, glancing over to make sure that they hadn't attracted parental attention. His dad and Race were talking quietly on the sofa, not looking their way. "What happened? Aren't you going to tell us?"

"Yes, Jonny," Hadji said. "Please tell us."

Jonny looked back and forth at the two earnest, almost eager faces, and looked down at his hands, which were clenching into fists. "You want me to tell you all about my adventure, don't you?" he asked, looking up.

Hadji's eyes widened, and Jonny could see that he knew something was wrong, but Jessie just said, "Well, yeah!"

Jonny got to his feet, ignoring the twinges from his ribs. "It wasn't an adventure," he said flatly. "I wasn't brave, and I have no exciting stories to tell." He turned his back on them and walked into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Benton watched the door shut behind his son, and looked over at the other two kids. Jessie looked completely perplexed, and Hadji looked worried. "What happened?" he asked. Both kids turned to look at him, startled.

"I don't know," Jessie said. "We were just asking him what happened to him, and he got upset."

Benton heard Race counting slowly to ten under his breath, and gestured for Jessie and Hadji to come over to him. They walked over and sat down on the floor. "What happened to Jonny was pretty bad, kids," he said. "I would prefer you not ask him about it. If he brings it up and wants to talk, that's a different story, but don't press him."

"But Dr. Quest –" Hadji started, then he looked down at the floor. "Can you tell us what happened? So we do not say or do the wrong thing."

Jonny opened the door again and came out, looking stiff and alarmed. Benton leapt up and walked over to him. "Are you okay, son?" he asked quietly.

"There's a gun in there," Jonny said, looking embarrassed but upset. He wouldn't meet his father's eyes. "I know it's Race's, but I – can you get Race to come in and get it?"

Benton tousled his hair. "Of course, Jonny. Why don't I just ask Race to come and talk to you, and you can tell him what you want. How does that sound?" Jonny glanced at the other kids and then shot him a grateful look. Benton rested a hand lightly on his shoulder, then went over to the sofa again. "Race, Jonny would like a word with you." Raising his eyebrows slightly, Race stood. Benton gave him a neutral look that he knew Race would read like a book, and he nodded and went over to Jonny. Talking quietly, they went into Jonny's room.

Estella's phone call had apparently ended, and she was sitting, watching the goings on with a worried look in her eyes.

"Dr. Quest," Jessie said. "Hadji's right. It would be better if we knew, so we can be aware of what might upset him."

Benton raised his eyes to Estella's face again. "It's not really up to me what to tell you, Jessie. Your mother and father might feel you're too young to be –"

"Her mother thinks she needs to know," Estella said suddenly from across the room. She got up and crossed to sit beside him on the sofa. "And I don't think her father would disagree."

Benton nodded. "All right, then." He told them the events of the past week in as neutral terms as he could manage, trying to keep his voice calm. The bare facts would disturb them enough, he felt, he didn't need to add another layer of distress by being emotional. Estella, too, kept her emotions under control, though he could see that she was upset by the tale.

His attempt at neutrality failed dismally, at least with Hadji. He'd always been a perceptive boy, and, by now, they knew each other far too well for Benton to fool him about something like this. Jessie seemed to pick up on it as well. The kids wound up leaning against their respective parents as Benton's narration progressed.

When he came to the moment when Crandall had threatened him with the gun and broken Jonny's arm, however, he faltered to a stop. After a moment, Estella put a hand on his knee. "If it's too much for you, Benton, you don't have to tell us."

Benton closed his eyes, feeling like a fool. He opened them again and went on, attempting to think of the incident in purely scientific terms, and thus divorce himself from it. However, he didn't look at the kids' faces, not wanting to see the dismay he knew would be there.

When he was done, there was silence that was broken for Benton only by the sound of his heart beating. After a long pause, Jessie said, "Why does he think he wasn't brave?"

"Because he was afraid," Hadji said. "Really, badly frightened. I do not think he has ever felt that way before, not like Dr. Quest just described."

Jessie still looked puzzled. Her youth wouldn't allow her to understand just yet, Benton thought. He didn't think she'd ever been that scared either, and hoped she never would be. He found himself wondering if Hadji had been, and if that was why he was so perceptive. The boy hadn't talked a great deal about his life before he met up with the Pasha Peddler, and Benton suddenly felt he had neglected him by not asking.

Estella said, "Thank you, Benton. I think we all needed to know that." She smiled sympathetically at him. "It's late, and I think Jessie and I had better be getting to bed so that you folks can."

Jessie stood up with her mother, looking uncertain and confused. Estella draped an arm around her shoulders and they walked out of the room. Hadji watched them go for a minute, then turned to Benton. "She is very young," he said.

"She's only a year younger than you," Benton pointed out. Hadji gave him a look that told him in no uncertain terms that he was being foolish, and Benton snorted. "Well, son, does that explain Jonny's reactions better for you?"

"It does," Hadji said slowly. "I do not know what to do, though. He does not know that I know, and it will probably embarrass him when he finds out."

"Just be there for him, Hadji. He needs his brother's support, though he won't ask for it." Hadji nodded. "He talked about you a lot while we were gone, and I know he missed you." They were silent for a moment, and then Benton added, "We both did."

"I missed you, too," Hadji said. Looking down at his hands, he said, "You are my father. I do not know what I would do without you."

Touched to the quick, Benton gathered Hadji into his arms and gave him a bear hug. "I love you, Hadji, you know that, don't you?"

"I love you, too," Hadji said somewhere in the vicinity of his armpit.

* * *

Race followed Jonny into the bedroom and closed the door behind them. Jonny was very quiet, and Race wondered what was wrong. Benton had given him a clear message indicating that something was upsetting the boy, not that he needed it.

Finally, Jonny said, "You left your gun in the chair." His face turned scarlet as he said it, and Race went down on one knee beside him.

"What's up, Jonny?"

"I'm being stupid, I know. It's okay when you're wearing it, but not just sitting there." Race stood immediately and swiftly holstered the pistol.

"You're not being stupid. You're having perfectly normal anxiety."

"Well, I feel stupid." Jonny said. "You've had that gun the entire time I've known you and it's never bothered me before."

"No one's ever acted like they were shooting your dad in front of you before, either, though. It makes a difference."

"I don't see why." Jonny turned away and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I guess I'm just a coward."

Race pulled up a chair facing him and sat down. "You're not a coward. Crandall was terrifying."

"You wouldn't have been scared," Jonny said.

"Yes, I would have. I was." Race didn't want to alarm him, so he caught Jonny's eye and then reached out to put his hand on his shoulders. "Do you know what I do when I get scared?" Jonny shook his head. "I get really angry. I've had to learn to control it over the years, because it can get me into a lot of trouble."

"I guess it could," Jonny said.

"And when I was watching that video of Crandall hurting you, I got as angry as I've ever been."

"But that wasn't because you were scared, was it?"

"I was petrified. You have every right to be scared of Crandall, Jonny. That man is sick in a way that makes him very dangerous."

"But he's gone. I mean, he's in the corporation, and I'm not anymore. I don't have to worry about him now."

"That won't stop you from being scared of him, sport," Race said sympathetically. "I'll let you in on a secret. I was scared of my uncle right up until the end of that visit."

"Really?"

"Really. I hid it even from myself by being angry, but it was fear."

"But I cowered. After I threw him, I was afraid he was going to kill me, and I crouched down on the floor and apologized over and over again."

"That's not cowardice, Jonny, that's common sense. Getting yourself killed isn't brave, it's foolish."

Jonny ducked his head again, looking embarrassed. "I know. I shouldn't have thrown him."

"No, you probably shouldn't have," Race agreed. "Though I would have been hard pressed not to myself, so I can't fault you on that. But I'm very serious when I tell you all not to antagonize the bad guys. A lot of people confuse rashness with bravery. There are times when it's braver to back down from a fight than to join one." He looked Jonny in the eye, though he had to tilt his head very far down to do so. Jonny looked up, looking embarrassed again. "I promised myself that I was going to hug the stuffing out of you when you came back, but I think that might hurt more than it would help right now."

Jonny grinned ruefully. "You're probably right." He raised an eyebrow innocently. "Can I take a rain check, though?"

"Sure you can," Race said, giving Jonny's hair a tousle. "In the meantime, I think we'd all better keep combs on us, because the safest place to touch you seems to be your head." Jonny laughed out loud at that, and Race smiled. "Now, I don't know if you're sleepy. You've slept a lot over the last twenty-four hours."

"I think I could sleep," Jonny said. "I'm sorry I yelled at Jessie and Hadji."

Race shrugged. "I'm not worried about it."

Jonny looked around suddenly. "Do I have to sleep in here alone?"

"I think we could arrange for someone to sleep in here with you," Race said. He went to the door and opened it, gesturing for Benton and Hadji to come in. In very short order it was determined that Hadji would sleep in here with Jonny because the bed was plenty wide enough for two skinny kids. He and Benton got them to bed and then left the room.

"Is he okay?" Benton asked once the door was shut.

"He's going to be," Race assured him. "He's just feeling a little uncertain right now. He's never – well, you know what happened."

"He was particularly worried that you would be ashamed of him, so I'm glad that you're spending so much time reassuring him."

"Ashamed of him?" Race exclaimed. "What on earth makes him think I'd be ashamed of him?"

"No matter what I said, I could not persuade him that his reactions were normal under the circumstances." Benton shook his head. "Maybe you'll have more success."

"Maybe." Race wrinkled his brow, trying to think. "It just makes me wonder what I might have done or said that would have given him that impression."

"It's not you, Race," Benton said. "And I keep telling myself that it's not me, either. I just wish I understood why Jonny believes anything that bastard said about him."

Race put a hand on Benton's shoulder. "You look absolutely exhausted, old friend. It's time you went to bed yourself."

"Does this suite have another bedroom?" Benton asked, glancing around.

Race shook his head and walked over to the couch. "'Fraid not. We're stuck with this," he said as he folded out the bed. "I can sleep on the floor if you'd prefer."

"Don't be an ass."

They made the bed and went to sleep, and Race hoped things would look brighter in the morning.

* * *

The days that followed had their ups and downs, but Jonny seemed to grow calmer and more confident. They had to be debriefed, of course, and Benton was glad to see that Corvin found an older woman with grey hair and a grandmotherly smile to speak with Jonny. He had his conversation with Phil himself, but it was reasonably painless, considering that Phil had already seen most of what happened on the security video they had seized from both facilities. Jonny returned from his interview very quiet and withdrawn, but between them, Hadji and Jessie managed to cheer him up.

After that, Benton's focus was on fixing the Maine house and getting the Florida house ready for habitation again, so they'd have somewhere to live in the meantime. Estella stayed with them at I-1 HQ for a week, but she had to return to her dig. Before she left, however, the three adults met with Benton's lawyer and got the complex guardianship arrangements worked out.

Jessie opted to stay behind when her mother left, but Estella didn't seem to mind. Race did some work updating the security arrangements at the Florida house, increasing the protections against EM pulses, as well as installing more cameras and new alarms to let them know if a boat approached.

It was with evident reluctance that Corvin let them leave after two weeks. Benton knew that Jonny was uncomfortable in the unfamiliar environment, and the high security felt to both of them like they were still in the corporation. Benton kept expecting to see Marcus waiting outside the door to their suite in the morning, and if he felt that way, how much more must Jonny?

No, they needed to return to a familiar, homey environment, one where they could feel at ease, and not like they were being observed by strangers.

The moment they landed, Jonny and Hadji dragged Jessie off to show her over the island. She'd been to Palm Key before, for short visits, but that had been before the three kids had gotten as close as they had since she had moved in with her father. There were undoubtedly things they hadn't bothered to show her back then, when she was just a visitor and a 'girl' to boot.

Benton smiled as he watched them run off across the beach.

"There sure is a lot more freedom here than at I-1 Headquarters," Race commented, coming up beside him. "This'll be good for them."

"Yes. Jonny hasn't had space to run like that for a while."

"Of course, we'll have to cook for ourselves, unless we can persuade Mrs. Evans and her husband to come down to Florida for –" Race broke off as he saw Mrs. Evans emerge from the house wearing her usual apron and a big smile.

"Martin is already out fishing," she said, walking over to them. "Dinner will be ready at six."

"I appreciate your willingness to come down to help us out, Mrs. Evans," Benton said, smiling. "And your husband's tolerance."

"Tolerance, hah!" Mrs. Evans said wryly. "Give Martin the chance to fish waters he's never seen before, and he'll tolerate anything."

Benton and Race both laughed. "I take it I was right that he and Larry Jeffers would get along well?" Benton asked.

"Oh yes. Well, I'd better check on the roast."

She bustled back inside, and Benton turned to Race. "You were saying?"

"I should have known you'd have everything under control." Benton smiled and they carried the luggage inside. Ordinarily, the kids would have stayed to help, but Benton didn't begrudge them this time. For one thing, it would only frustrate Jonny, who couldn't help much with his arm in a cast.

Their things had been retrieved from the island, much to both his and Jonny's relief. The pictures of Rachel were replaceable, but not without a great deal of effort, and there were other precious things that the corporation had taken, not to mention much of their clothing.

After dinner that night, Jessie and Hadji sat down on the floor to play chess, Race pulled out a book and started reading, and Benton glanced around to see where Jonny was. After a moment, Hadji caught his eye and nodded at the door out toward the dock. Benton smiled and went out.

Jonny was sitting on the edge of the dock, staring out across the water. Benton walked up and sat down next to him, also looking out. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Jonny said. "Do you miss living out here?"

"Sometimes, but I like Maine, too."

"It's sure cooler there at this time of year."

"Yes, it certainly is." They were silent for a moment, then Jonny leaned up against him and he put his arm around his son's shoulders. "How are you feeling, son?" he asked.

"I don't know," Jonny said. "Sometimes I feel like normal, but then other times I –" He shrugged and looked down.

"You feel like you want to hide in a corner?"

Jonny turned his head and looked up at him. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Because I feel that way sometimes, too. It will pass." Benton squeezed him gently. "If you feel like you need to talk about it, you know you can always come to me, or to Race."

"I know." Jonny sighed. "I've been talking to Race sometimes. Who do you talk to when you feel that bad?" When Benton didn't answer, Jonny looked up at him again. "Dad? Who do you talk to? I mean, you do talk to someone, don't you?"

"Well –" Benton didn't know what to say. Race had been applying gentle pressure to get him to open up, but he hadn't yet. It was difficult.

"Can't you talk to Race?" Jonny asked. "He's pretty good to talk to about this stuff."

"Probably. I just haven't."

"Maybe you should."

They were quiet for a while longer, staring out over the open expanse of ocean under the starry sky. There was no moon tonight, so the sky was very dark indeed.

"Maybe I should," Benton replied finally. "I'll give it a shot."

"Good." Jonny settled more comfortably up against him. "We've got a great family, even if some people think it's a little odd."

"Yes, Jonny, we do."

Benton and Jonny sat for a long while, just enjoying each other's company. Eventually, Race came out and made the suggestion that bed might be a good idea. Benton and Jonny got up and went in.

Yes, they did have a great family, Benton reflected, watching the kids get ready for bed, and Race going with them to tuck them in. It was good to be home.


	22. Epilogue

Arthur Smith looked down at his notes as the chairman asked, "Is there any more old business?" There was some murmuring and paper shuffling around the table, but nobody spoke.

"Well, yes, actually," Arthur said after a moment's pause to make sure no one else had anything to present. "There is the matter of the Quest boy."

Maggie Ballard gave him a perplexed look, pursing her lips. "I thought we all agreed that, after Theodore Crandall's blunders, Dr. Quest was a lost cause, and, in addition, his presence proved too dangerous to the corporation."

There were mutters of agreement all around the table, but Arthur just waiting for them to quiet down. Then he said, "I was very specific in my remark. I'm not interested in Dr. Quest, but I am very interested in Jonathon Quest for his own sake."

A brief silence followed this comment, and then Gerard spoke. "Doesn't the problem for one follow the other? Crandall undoubtedly alienated the boy and, once again, the search for them proved damaging in the extreme."

"Ah, but you see, that search was for the father, not for the son." The chairman sat back looking thoughtful, and Arthur hid his satisfaction. "It is Dr. Quest who has made the contribution. To the governments of the world, the boy is, as yet, an unknown quantity."

"I take he can be regarded otherwise by us?" the chairman asked.

"Yes, sir." He pulled out a pile of small packets from his folder and watched in mild amusement as the others recognized the format. Once a quarter, they met to decide the fates of those younger members of the corporation whose scores were outstanding, and the information was disseminated in just this fashion. "I'm afraid the packet is incomplete," he said as he passed them out. "But we were only able to run the first battery of tests."

"My good Lord," murmured the chairman as he looked at the assessments, and Arthur saw that the others looked similarly impressed. "When were these given?"

"The day before Crandall broke his arm, in the morning and early afternoon."

"So his last full day with us," the chairman mused.

"But these scores are phenomenal!" Maggie said. "Nothing in his academic record indicates such abilities."

"Schools outside the corporation tend to pander to the mediocre," Arthur said. "Leaving children such as young Mr. Quest bored and disinterested. And, further, we believe that he feels profoundly inferior when he compares himself to his father and his brother."

"Besides," Edie put in, flipping through the packet with keen interest. She was one of the researchers who had created the tests they gave the children in their care. "Most of the time we pick up on this sort of intellect through observation rather than through any measure of academic performance. We have no one in place to observe the boy, so we wouldn't have discovered this."

"That must be rectified," the chairman said. "Do we have anyone suitable to send out into the field?"

Arthur smiled. "I have taken the liberty of putting together a program that I think will work rather nicely." He passed around copies of his proposal. "There are a number of possible ways to observe him without drawing attention."

There was silence while the board read through his suggestions, and Arthur took the time to make some observations of his own. Edie had been won over the moment she looked at the boy's scores. A mind such as his came along but rarely, and would be of immense benefit to the corporation if they could harness it. Gerard was cautious, as always, but he could see the boy's promise. Maggie would no doubt push for immediate action, he could see her eyebrows raise and knew she had come to his timetable. The chairman, however, seemed quite intrigued by Arthur's carefully designed program, and most of the others would follow his lead.

After everyone had looked up, Maggie said, "Why wait so long?"

"Yes," Leonard agreed. "If we're going to wait four years, why not simply wait till he's grown with children of his own?"

"Well, there is the possibility that if we wait too long, he'll have done something to draw his government's attention," Lloyd pointed out.

"We don't want that," Gerard said. "Do you really think it will be this easy to snatch him, and that the search for him wouldn't be as intense as for his father?"

"I have no doubts. Dr. Quest, with his achievements and contributions, merits the enormous expense of an all-out search, but the boy doesn't. For one thing, I don't believe that any of them realizes what they have in him."

Edie nodded. "He's got just the sort of mind that will be overlooked until the moment it's needed, and even then most will dismiss his intuitions as luck. Even he would."

"That still doesn't answer my question," Maggie said impatiently. "I wasn't recommending that we wait longer to bring the boy here. If the school systems out there are so inadequate, wouldn't it be wiser to give him the benefit of our training as soon as possible? Say, once he's had some time to recover his equilibrium."

"Ah, yes," Arthur said, and Maggie gave him a startled look. "But once he is here, he will have to remain here. The sort of intellect he possesses thrives on variety of experience. I thought we should give him a few more years to feed it before we bring him into the fold for good."

"Further," Edie said, "no doubt his father teaches him, and we can hardly deny that Dr. Quest is more than adequate as an instructor."

"That's a good point," Gerard said. "But the longer he stays outside, the greater the chance that one of his father's enemies will kill him."

"Why don't we compromise?" the chairman suggested. "We'll implement the observation plan Smith has prepared, then, in a year, we will revisit the issue and consider the reports of those observers." He looked around, and seeing no one was disposed to disagree, he said, "All in favor?"

There was a chorus of "Aye," to which Arthur added his voice.

"Opposed?" Silence greeted the question, and the chairman smiled. "Then it's settled. Smith, set your program in motion." He paused, then added, "Now is that all for old business?"

Arthur contemplated the success of his plan with satisfaction. To think that they had nearly allowed a child with Jonathon Quest's potential slip away from them.

Theodore Crandall had much to answer for.


End file.
